Someone to watch over me
by candy-belle
Summary: Sometimes we all need someone to take care of us no matter how tough we are. Still not entirely sure where this came from but I love the idea of Coulson taking care – true, deep, honest D/s care – of Clint when they are alone.
1. Home coming

**Title:** Someone to watch over me  
**Rating:** PG12 (only for 1 bad word)  
**Summary:** Clint can't wait to get back to base and back to his true handler  
**Featuring:** Clint Barton/Phil Coulson,  
**Genre/warnings:** deep D/s relationship, deep friendship and a slightly sarcastic and tired Hawkeye  
**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters of Marvel Movies. No copyright or trademark infringement is intended and no money is being made.  
**Notes:** Not entirely sure where this came from but I love the idea of Coulson taking care – real care – of Clint when they are in private. Plus I totally adore their fandom relationship. And yes just so you know as far as I am concerned Agent Coulson Lives x Anyway, as always this is unbeta'd so any mistakes you find, please, please, please forgive (I mean it PLEASE!)

**Onto the story….**

The helicopter ride back to base was painfully long and boringly uneventful. Keeping an arm wrapped around his aching torso, Clint rested his head against the metal interior and sighed. The mission had been hard and brutal but a success. Closing his eyes he let himself start to unwind. He'd spent three whole days on surveillance, three days and nights stuck on the ledge watching as the targets moved around beneath him. Everything ached but at least he was injury free. For once. He was just exhausted and longing to get home.

It was one of the first missions in ages where Coulson hadn't been the lead agent, where he hadn't been with him. It had felt strange not hearing those soft calm tones on the comm, and it felt even stranger knowing Coulson wasn't watching over him, keeping an eye on him as well as the mission. It was probably why he'd been so determined - suicidal even - to get the mission completed in record time, he wanted to be back under Coulson's care. He wanted to be back with his handler. With his trusted handler.

"Sir?"

He opened his eyes crack, glaring at the junior agent that was daring to him wake up.

"We're at base," explained the junior before beating a hasty retreat.

Grabbing his bag and his bow Clint scrambled off the helicopter, ducking to keep out of the down draft and headed towards the main area. He hadn't gotten three paces into the building before an all too familiar presence materialise at his elbow.

"Welcome back, Agent Barton," said Coulson, his voice calm and surprisingly soothing, as he drew level with Clint. "We're in Debrief 5," he added helpfully as he brushed past, heading for the nominated room. There was a slight pressure on Clint's hip, the fleeting warmth of a hand caressing him but then it was gone, leaving him yearning more than just that briefest of touches.

Without hesitating he followed Coulson through the dimly light corridors towards the debrief room. As he stepped inside Clint paused – Fury was already there, leafing through some papers. Without even glancing up Fury pointed to a chair and waited. Sinking into the indicate chair, Clint glanced over at his handler and sighed – Coulson looked serious, which he knew meant this was going to be a long, long debrief.

He wasn't wrong. It took four hours; four hours of him regurgitating everything he'd learnt on the mission, names, faces, locations, the number of enemy agents he'd taken down, everything. By the end of it he was barely functioning and he didn't even register when Fury stood up and, with what passed for a smile, called gruffly, "Good work out there, Barton. Now go get some rest. I do not want to see you around here for at least three days. And that means staying off the shooting range was well."

Clint didn't respond. He was having a hard enough time keeping his eyes open, let alone be alter enough to formulate a response to the growled command banning him from his beloved range. He could hear Coulson and Fury talking in low voice, the two of them standing by the doorway with their heads bent as if conspiring about something. He couldn't even bring himself to eavesdrop which was unheard of for him. But as he straightened his head, rolling out his neck, he did hear Fury growl, "I'll take care of it. You take care of him." He noticed a slight tightening of Coulson's shoulders before he nodded gravely and replied in those soft tones that Clint craved, "Yes Sir."

Fury spared Clint a final look before turning his good eye on Coulson and giving him a very meaningful glare. Waiting for the door to shut behind Fury, Clint gave a low empty chuckle. Rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand, he looked up and called, "So, d'I do okay, Boss?" He couldn't help wincing at how rough his voice sounded is voice sounded even to his own ears.

Coulson though seemed more intent in gathering up the scattered papers than talking to Clint. Used to his handler putting paperwork before him, Clint leant back against his chair and gave a little sigh. It was only as he tilted his head back up that he realised Coulson was watching him. He cocked his head to the side, resembling the bird he was codenamed after and offered a slight smile, feeling slightly self-conscious about the look he was getting. It was the sort of possessive look Coulson normally reserved for when they were alone, in private and able to see it through without fear of being interrupted. For a moment their eyes locked and in that second everything changed.

Straightening up Coulson clicked shut the attaché case and, without speaking, he crossed over to the surveillance cameras. Swiping his card into the control panel, he worked quickly, his fingers flying over the keypad as he typed in the override code. And then, to Clint's audible amusement, he watched as the cameras slowly died. He paused before turning back and, with the softest smile curling his lips, he nodded and replied warmly, "You did more than okay, Clint. You were outstanding."

Clint gave a tired smile, basking in the warmth of the praise. He loved it when Coulson praised him, when that smooth gentle voice told him he'd got the job done, that he was worth the all the trouble he caused. He went to lean forward but his balance failed him and he wobbled slightly, wavering in his chair.

In an instant Coulson was beside him. Sliding a supportive arm around Clint's shoulders, he steadied him, soothing, "Easy, easy." He took time to look at Clint's upturned face and with a note of worry in his voice, he concluded, "They worked you too hard and too fast." He ran a hand over the side of Clint's face, his thumb trailing over grease marks and dirt smears and huffed, "Remind me to never let you go on a mission without me as the handler again. You're too valuable to be overworked like this."

"I like it when you're with me," murmured Clint, too exhausted to care what he was saying. It took a moment before his brain caught up and with a slight blush working its way over his cheek he added quickly, "Because the others' don't let me chat the way you do and I…"

"I know what you meant," soothed Coulson, caressing the back of Clint's neck as he added teasingly, "I'll remind you of that next time you're giving me grief on the comm."

"I'm sure you will, Sir," smirked Clint, yawning before he had even finished speaking. It was testament to how exhausted he was, that he didn't to even try and hide the fact he was practically dead on his feet.

"Well since you somehow managed to get back injury free, which means no trip to medical for you," he ignored the sarcastic little cheer Clint gave at that news, he asked, "You ready to get out of here?"

"Been ready for hours, Sir, but some bastards decided to play de-brief with me instead," replied Clint trying to sound his normal cocky self but failing.

"Language," corrected Coulson, although there was no heat in the reprimand. He gave Clint's shoulder a slight squeeze adding softly, "But you know the sooner we got the de-brief over with, the sooner you'd be dismissed and I get to take you home." He stroked a hand over the dirty blond hair, caressing the short strands murmuring absently, "You need a nice long bath, you're filthy."

"So would you if you'd been stuck on a ledge for three whole days," snapped Clint, certainly not nuzzling his face against Coulson's chest nor breathing in the unique scent that was his handler. He took a deep breath then releasing what Coulson had actually said he pulled back slightly and asked cheekily, "Does that mean you're gonna help me get clean, sir? Maybe scrub my back for me?"

"Of course," repaid Coulson without missing a beat, "And if you're good, I'll even wash your hair for you."

"Yey, I save the world and I get rewarded with a bubble bath," huffed Clint playfully, the grin ruining his attempt to be sarcastic.

Coulson sighed at the half-hearted sass he was being given then shaking his head he leant down and placed a gentle kiss on Clint's forehead, murmuring, "I'm so proud of you."

Clint's grin increased the way it always did when Coulson whispered thing like that in his ear. Without thinking he went to stand and all too quickly his body reminded him just how exhausted he was. He started to fall but before he pitched forward strong arms were sliding around him holding him up. He would never admit to it but he gave a little mew of delight and snuggled into the strong frame currently supporting him.

Resign his head on Coulson's shoulder, he closed his eyes. It just felt so good to be held, to be reminded that he wasn't facing the world alone any more. That he finally had someone who really did care about him and who wanted to take care of him, defects and all. He felt Coulson's breath against his neck and then a very soft barely there kiss as his public handler and his private lover, murmured, "I've got you, darling. You can let go, you're safe." That was all he needed to hear before he finally let go and allowed the exhaustion to take over, trusting Coulson completely to look after him and keep him safe from harm.

Fin x


	2. Bath time

"Do you need a hand getting undress?" called Phil glancing back over his shoulder as he prepared the bath.

Clint blinked his eyes open and gave a sleepy smile. Pushing away from the doorframe he'd been resting against supposedly watching Phil draw the bath, he rasped, "Hand would be good."

The slight smile that tugged at Phil's lips was enough to let Clint know he'd made the right call. He couldn't remember when it had happened, when he had become okay with someone helping him like this. When accepting help stopped being a sign of supposed weakness and turned into something he actually looked forward to. He gave a little chuckle as Phil slipped his fingers into his belt loops and tugged him closer. Running a hand up over the Kevlar vest still plastered to Clint's chest, Phil took a moment to steady himself before reaching for the shoulder straps and gently easing the form-fitting amour away. The moment it came away Clint let out a long low breath sighing, "I hate that thing."

"It keeps you alive," replied Phil, reaching down to tug the black shirt free of Clint's belt. He pulled the shirt up and over Clint's head frowning slightly when he noticed red marks gracing the top of Clint's shoulders.

"I thought you weren't injured," murmured Phil a frown marring his face. Gripping Clint's elbow he turned the younger man around the frown deepening and his face slipping into agent mode as he snapped, "Damn it, Barton what the hell happened to your back?"

"Huh"? asked Clint sleepily. Twisting his head left and right trying to see over his own shoulders. He stumbled slightly as Phil pulled him further into the bathroom turning him so he could see his won back in the mirror.

"Oh that," chuckled Clint, "My perch wasn't exactly comfortable. I kept catching my back on the bricks."

"You were stationed on a balcony," replied Phil his hand ghosting over the angry red marks littering Clint's back, "and you were wearing body armour. How the hell did you…"

"I moved locations," explained Clint turning around so he could look at Phil properly. He dropped his eyes a moment and wrapping his arms protectively around his midsection he added, "The original location didn't give me good enough eye lines so I…"

"That wasn't mentioned in the initial report," growled Phil still very much in agent mode.

Clint glanced up and offering his handler what could only be described as a begging puppy look he murmured, "Can you wait until tomorrow to lecture me about protocol. Please? Tonight I just…"

"Of course," soothed Phil closing the gap between them. Without hesitating he slipped his arms around Clint's torso pulling the younger man against him.

Settling his head on Phil's shoulder, Clint turned his face nuzzling against the skin just above Phil's collar and took several deep long calming breaths.

"I'm sorry." breathed Phil brushing a soft kiss against Clint's dirty hair, "I just hate hearing about other people's incompetence, especially when their incompetence results in you getting hurt."

Clint chuckled against Phil's neck and brushing a soft kiss against the warm skin he murmured, "You can write a report about it tomorrow."

"In triplicate," replied Phil with a little snigger. Easing back he bought a hand up caressing the back of Clint's neck. Watching as Clint reacted to his touch, he smiled and asked fondly, "You ready for that bath now?"

"Oh god yes," breathed Clint, "I am one massive ache."

Phil nodded and, without wasting time on talking, he started to strip Clint of the remaining uniform. Once he had peeled away the last of the filthy black uniform, he stepped back and running a very appreciative eye over the now naked Clint he nodded and ordered softly "Need you to stay awake, Clint. Don't want you to drown."

"Doesn't matter if I go under," replied Clint sleepily, the sheer honesty in his face and voice enough to take Phil breath away, "You'd save me."

"Always," promised Phil as he moved Clint forward, steadying the exhausted specialist as he stepped into the bath. Helping him down into the warm bubbles, Phil smiled when Clint gave a little yelp of delight and poked the little rubber duck that was floating in amidst the bubbles.

"What the hell is this?" giggled Clint sending the little Kevlar-vest wearing, bow wielding duck speeding down the bath tub.

"I found it on line," chuckled Phil loving the smile lighting up Clint's face, "There's one for each of you actually. I thought you might like it."

"Hey you know I love playing with myself in the bath," smirked Clint, offering Phil a teasing wink as he sank back into the bubbles.

"Yes," replied Phil straight faced, "That's why I didn't…"

"Wait is there a Cap one?" interrupted Clint his eyes snapping open, "Oh god, you got a Captain America duck to play with, didn't you?"

Phil glared at him and turned away but not soon enough to hide his reaction at the comment. It was only noticeable to someone who knew Phil well – and no one knew him as well as Clint – but there was smallest hint of a blush worked its way over the stoic face. And it was noticeable enough to have Clint chuckling mercilessly. Nudging his own duck with his toe, Clint called, "You know I'm gonna get you one if you haven't got it already."

Phil ignored him, busying himself with getting a few supplies before turning back and ordering firmly, "Sit up, I need to wash your hair before you fall asleep."

Clint hesitated a moment then slowly levered himself back to a vertical sitting position. Making sure not to catch Phil's eyes, he murmured, "Thank you for this, by the way."

Phil gave him a warm smile in response knowing better than to reply to such a raw, exposed comment. Kneeling by the side of the tub he dipped the jug into the water, and ordered softly, "Tip your head back,"

Clint obeyed, closing his eyes and trying not to sigh as warm water cascaded over his head, slicking his short hair. He concentrated on the soft sounds of Phil moving beside the tub, the gently thud as knees hit the sides of the tub, the squeak of a hand gripping the edge of the enamel side and then the wonderful feeling of strong trusted hands working the shampoo into the short strands washing away the grime of the missions. Trying very hard not to whimper as Phil started to massage his scalp; Clint bit his lower lip, balling his fists as he tried to hide how much the gentle attention was affecting his exhausted body.

"Let go," ordered Phil softly, those soft calming tones Clint adored during a mission working an even greater magic on him in the quiet of their private bathroom

Clint didn't obey at first. He rarely did. Even after all this time he still found it hard to switch from being a highly trained specialist that relied on no one but himself to being able to trust someone else to take care of him. But as Phil continued to massage his scalp, soothing away the pains and stress of the mission, he found himself slipping into that role which is secretly loved – the role that allowed him to trust Phil completely.

"That's it, darling," soothed Phil pressing the softest kiss against the back of Clint's neck, "Let go, relax. You're safe now, you're safe."

Clint turned his head and blinking his eyes open he stared at Phil and offered a soft almost nervous smile. Phil smiled back and nuzzling his face against Clint's hair, he ordered, "Close your eyes, I'm going to rinse the soap off."

"Yes boss," replied Clint smirking at the huff he got in response. He loved it when Phil huffed at him, because he knew no one else ever got that little emotion filled sound except him. Even on the most dangerous of missions, he knew that little huff down the comm meant they were okay, it meant they were still alive.

Phil tipped jug after jug over Clint's hair, chasing each pint with a hand soothing the suds off the now clean blonde strands. Clint shivered in delight letting out little mew and sighs as Phil washed away the last of the suds. Stroking his hand over Clint's hair Phil smiled and ordered, "Lean forward let me get your back before you really do fall asleep."

"S'your fault," griped Clint, "Got magic hands, make me feel so good,"

"I aim to please," replied Phil smiling opening at the sleepy yawns and yaps he was getting out of Clint.

Running a sponge over Clint's back, Phil quickly washed off the last of the mission taking time to linger on the angry marks left from the precarious perch the master archer had chosen himself. Letting the sponge drop back into the tub, Phil grunted and slowly got to his feet, rolling out his shoulders trying to get some feeling back into his hunched back. Clint had slumped back against the bathtub, his eyes closed and his breathing soft and shallow. Tidying away the shampoo and sponge Phil took a few moments to watch Clint resting, drinking in the rare sight of a relaxed Hawkeye in his tub. After a few moments he leant over and brushing a kiss against the side of Clint's mouth, he murmured, "Wake up sleeping beauty, I need to get you into bed before you fall asleep."

"Bet you say that to all the girls," replied Clint sleepily.

"No," smirked Phil, "Just my favourite, most annoying sniper."

Clint gave a little cheer and allowed Phil to help him step out of the tub. Looking at the thick fluffy towel he was being offered he bit the side of his lip and flicked Phil a beseeching look. Nodding silently Phil simply turned and started to dry Clint off. Taking time to dry each limb, Phil sank to his knees, making sure he paid careful attention to Clint's feet and ankles knowing how tender they could be especially after such a hard mission, before working his way up Clint's firm legs. Clint gave a little sigh of pleasure and resting a hand on Phil's head he murmured, "Thank you,"

Phil simply pressed a soft kiss to Clint exposed hip before rising back to his feet and wrapping the towel around the sleepy man. Clint blinked his eyes open and smiling at his handler and lover, he breathed, "Missed this. Missed you."

"Missed you too," replied Phil cupping the side of Clint's face with his hand. Running a thumb over the now clean skin eh leant in and pressing a soft kiss to Clint's lips he asked, "You okay to finish up?"

Clint nodded stealing a secondary kiss before pulling back and running a hand through his wet hair, "Yeah," he yawned, "I think I can manage to bush my teeth and stuff on my own."

"Good boy," chuckled Phil patting Clint's hip before leaving to allow Clint finish off by himself.

By the time Clint padded into the bedroom, Phil had got the bed turned down and was already lying down reading a few e-mails. Clint couldn't help but chuckle at the sight – Phil was still in his shirt and suit trousers, only the tie had been removed giving just a glimpse of the body hiding beneath those intriguing suits.

Looking up from his tablet Phil offered Clint a soft smile and asked, "You coming to bed or do I need to order you to lie down?"

"I'm coming," grinned Clint. He crawled up the mattress and paused, resting on all fours gazing at Phil. He waited for the Phil to look at him before offering what could only be described as a seductive smirk.

"You need to sleep," ordered Phil, fighting to ignore the look Clint was giving him, the open sexual come on that would have reduced stronger men to mewling messes.

"But I…" protested Clint, almost pouting at the fact he was being refused.

"Sleep," snapped Phil softly. He chuckled at the glare Clint gave him. Patting the mattress beside him, he ordered, "Come on, lie down and get comfortable." As Clint flung himself petulantly onto his back, arms folding over his chest as he stared up at the celling, Phil added, "How about I make you a deal?"

Clint cocked his head, still glaring at him but obviously waiting to hear the offer before making some smart arse comment.

"If you're a good boy and go to sleep now," offered Phil in a soft commanding voice that had Clint shivering in anticipation, "I promise we will play any game you fancy tomorrow."

Clint thought about the offer then, with a knowing smirk, he nodded and wriggled closer. Snuggling against Phil, he rested his head on his lap, forcing his way between Phil and his tablet. Smiling indulgently Phil lifted his table out of the way letting Clint get comfortable before bring his arm back down, letting it lie over Clint's shoulder, absently stroking Clint's hair with his free hand. As they settled down, Clint yawned loudly before asking sleepily, "Aren't you sleepy?"

"Just got a few things to finish off, you go to sleep though, you're tired."

"So are you" replied Clint twisting so he could look up at Phil, "You know the paperwork will still be there tomorrow. And…"

"And you need to stop worrying about me," corrected Phil, stroking Clint's hair down more, gently easing him back down into the comfortable position, "Go on, go to sleep, darling." he paused then added in a softer lower voice, "I'll watch your back for you. You're home now, you're safe."

Clint didn't reply, he simply snuggled closer nuzzling his fact against Phil's stomach, one leg coming up to lie over Phil's, leaving him wrapped around the agent, a silent acceptance of the gentle offer. As they settled down Clint let himself go, finally letting go off the last remaining stands of tension that had kept him going through the mission. But now, curled up around Phil, the soft soothing motion of Phil's hand stroking his hair and the occasional gently tut as Phil read something he disapproved of, Clint finally let himself fall asleep knowing that for the time being at least he was safe, knowing for the time being he was in the company of someone who would never let him down. And that knowledge meant more to him than anything else in the world.

FIN x


	3. Breakfast

It was the smell of bacon cooking that finally stirred from Clint from his sleep. Grunting as he blinked himself awake he huffed with annoyance when he realised how bright the room was. Forcing his tired body to sit up he rubbed at his eyes before managing to wake up properly. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he sat on the edge a moment waiting for his shoulders to stop protesting at the sudden move. Yawning with residual sleep he pushed himself up and made his way groggily out into the lounge.

He was working on autopilot, his feet knowing the exact route to take him and the closer he got to the little kitchen, the stronger and more delicious the smells became. Leaning against the door frame he paused and grinned, drinking in the sight of the normally immaculate Coulson wearing nothing but faded grey jogging bottoms and a tatty but loved t-shirt. He was currently bent over checking on something in the oven, giving Clint the perfect chance to ogle the curve of his backside without fear of reprimand.

"Now that's a sight worth getting out of bed for," he drawled with a chuckle, pushing away from the door and padding over towards Coulson. Without hesitating he snuggled against him, rubbing his face against the firm shoulders before pressing a kiss against Coulson's bare neck and asking sleepily, "You making me breakfast, Boss?"

"Of course," replied Coulson not the least bit perturbed by the sudden human blanket draped over him, "I know for a fact you didn't eat properly during the mission and you were so exhausted last night you didn't even eat the sandwiche I offered you during the de-brief."

"You offered me a sandwich?" asked Clint frowning, he really didn't remember that bit, but if he was honest he didn't remember much of the de-brief sessions at all.

"Twice," informed Coulson, "Both times you just glared at me and continued reporting to Fury."

"Huh, sorry about that," replied Clint, slightly concerned that he may have been unintentionally rude to a man who took better care of him than anyone else in the world ever had.

"Don't be," soothed Coulson softly. He glanced over his shoulder and twisting slightly he managed to brush a light kiss over the edge of Clint's face, "You had a job to do and you did it. You did it very well." he added not even trying to keep the pride out of his voice.

"See, I can be a good subordinate sometimes," smirked Clint, knowing his record of insubordination was longer than Santa's naughty list.

"Sometimes being the operative word," replied Coulson totally straight faced.

He twisted around further, half pushing Clint away before pulling him back in for a quick hug. Running his hand over Clint's sleep-mess hair, he took time to look at him, his eyes narrowing when he noted with corner the dark circles under the archer's eyes and the slightly gaunt look to his face.

Clint's eyes fluttered slightly at the soft caress. It wasn't ever something he would admit but he loved it when Coulson, when _his_ Phil, took time to touch him, to show him that there was more to human interactions than pain and control. Blinking his eyes open he looked at Coulson and murmured, "I'm always good for you."

Coulson didn't react at first to the soft confession. Instead he continued his examination, his hand moving slowly over the side of Clint's face, trailing down to caress his neck, the strong fingers flexing over the tight muscles. Clint sighed as he felt the knowledgeable fingers stroking his neck.

They both knew how sensitive his neck was. He bit the inside of his lip trying very hard not to moan at the continued caresses. Forcing his eyes open properly he realised Coulson was gazing at him with a deep intensity that was as terrifying as it was exhilarating. He gave a little nervous smile, shivering when Coulson let his gaze dip before coming back up and locking his gaze with his once more. It was a look Clint could never get enough of, even if he never vocalised that need to anyone, especially not Coulson himself. Despite everything Clint still found it hard admitting what he really wanted, no matter how many times Coulson told him it was fine to talk to him.

"Yes," murmured Coulson, the soft words breaking Clint's internal reflection, "You are."

Clint couldn't stop the soppy smile bursting into life at that soft reply. Nor could he stop the slight blush working its way across his cheeks when Coulson leant in and stole a soft kiss off him. Clint kissed him back, grumbling quietly when Coulson broke the kiss and pulled back slightly.

"But you need to rest," added Coulson. He paused a moment then, slipping back into supreme agent mode, he concluded, "Fury was right to order you to take leave."

Clint stared at him a moment before pulling back completely from him. Moving a few steps back, he huffed, "Yeah about that," he paused then sinking onto one of the stools at the breakfast bar, he grumbled, "Did I imagine it or did he really say I was banned from the range…"

"You're banned," confirmed Coulson quietly, already braced for the angry reaction he knew was coming

"That's not fair!" exclaimed Clint glaring at his handler, "He's got no right to ban me. I didn't do anything wrong!" The "_this time"_ was left unspoken.

"I know you didn't do anything wrong," interrupted Coulson firmly, not the least put off by the angry glare he was being given, "But the order stands. You could have seriously hurt yourself during that last mission. The location you choose, while giving you the best eye line was not the best for your health." He stared at Clint, quelling the protest with a single look, "I will not let you compromise your own wellbeing for want of a few day's rest, Barton. It won't hurt you to take a little time to…"

"I need to train!" exclaimed Clint, interrupting him angrily, "You know that. I have to train each and every day. I have to keep my abilities at top level I have…"

"Three days will not hurt your abilities," corrected Coulson firmly, his voice slipping even further into handler mode without even realising it, "In all honestly I doubt three weeks would hurt your aim," he held a hand up silencing Clint's next objection as he asked blankly "Have you ever known me suggest something that wasn't in your best interested Barton?"

For a moment Clint glared at him but then, visibly deflating, he shook his head and muttered, "No Sir,"

"Exactly," replied Coulson, "So don't you think you should trust me with regard to this decision?"

Again he waited for Clint to answer. Although this time all he got was a slight nod of the head and nothing else. Glancing at the stove he made sure everything was safe before crossing to the stool Clint was perched on. Slipping a finger under Clint's chin he gently but firmly forced the archer to look up. Locking his gaze with the now-sulking operative Coulson smiled and with his voice dropping lower and softer he murmured, "Don't you trust me, darling?"

There was no way Clint could ignore that tone of voice. He never could, not when Coulson called him darling. Barely able to suppress the full body shudder that single word elicited he nodded replying with heart stopping honesty, "You know I trust you."

"I like to think so but I will never take that trust for granted," breathed Coulson smiling as Clint gave a little gasp of surprise, Coulson's confession shocking the hell out of him.

"What?" asked Coulson softly, moving even closer so he standing between Clint's legs, "I told you when we first agreed to head down this this path that I would never take you for granted, that I would never assume anything about you. I promised I would look after you even when you think you don't need taking care of. And that's what I'm doing now, darling, I'm taking care of you."

He gave a low long sigh and ran a finger along the side of Clint's face before adding softly, "but just because I agree with what Fury said that doesn't mean I'll stop looking out for you. I know how much your daily routine means to you, how much training means to you. I'd be a poor handler and an even worse lover if I didn't know what time alone with your bow means to you. You may be banned from the official range but Fury didn't say anything about you not practicing." He offered an almost smile to the now visibly confused archer, continuing, "He didn't say anything about you being banned from target practice and I happen to know for a fact there is a disused LazerQuest arena a few blocks from here that might be under a certain agencies control and…"

"Are you going again Fury's direct orders?" asked Clint unable and unwilling to keep the sheer awe he as feeling out of his voice.

"Certainly not," replied Coulson with a knowing smirk, "I am simply offering an alternative that was not considered during the debrief." He stole another soft caress before turning back to the stove. After making sure nothing was burning he glance over his shoulder and soothed, "I told him I would look after you. I know how much training regularly means to you and if it means I have to bend a few truths to enable you to do so," he gave a slight shrugged and let the rest of the sentence fade away into nothing as he started to plate up the now ready breakfast.

Clint watched him closely and as a plate was place in front of him he caught Coulson's wrist and tightening his grip a little, he murmured, "Thank you." He flicked his eyes up and for a moment he let Coulson see the raw emotions swirling inside of him before looking away and mumbling, "For everything."

For a moment the normal stoic mask was in place but then Coulson smiled and leaning down he pressed a kiss against Clint's parted lips and murmured, "You're welcome, darling." He pulled back and nodding at the steaming plate of bacon, pancakes and eggs, he ordered fondly, "Now eat your breakfast before it gets cold."

"Sir, yes Sir," replied Clint with a wicked grin as he started to devour the offered plate of goodies.

Coulson chuckled and sank on to the opposite stool, one hand curled around his cup of coffee, quite content, Clint noticed, to simply sit and watch him. And for once Clint didn't mind being watched, if anything he loved the way Coulson's eyes ran over him and the gently calculating look that filled his handlers gaze. A look that told him he was in good hands. As he shoved another forkful of delicious food into his mouth he caught Coulson's gaze and grinned and called, "You make good pancakes."

Coulson gave a little bow of his head in response, "Glad you approve."

"Oh I more than approve," grinned Clint, shoving another forkful in. As he ate he suddenly looked up and, with far too much enthusiasm, he asked, "So, tell me more about this disused LazerQuest arena then."

TBC


	4. Practice time

"Cool," murmured Clint taking in their surroundings. He was smirking with glee, his eyes already roaming over every single inch of the disused arena. Coulson shook his head smiling slightly at the way the master archer and often ruthless assassin was bouncing on the spot like a little kid.

"This place is great," exclaimed Clint turning in a tight circle. He was already reaching for his bow, his fingers curling around the familiar curves before he even realised what he was doing. He flicked Coulson a look and was rewarded with the slightest of nods. Pulling his bow free and snapping it into shape he rolled his shoulders before asking with an almost sexual growl to his voice, "Wanna fire this place up for me, boss?"

"You can practice perfectly well without running around and…" began Coulson only for Clint to interrupt him exclaiming, "That isn't practice for me. That's playtime." He stepped closer and, holding Coulson's gaze, he added firmly, "I need to practice properly. I need to be challenged. I need moving targets and …"

"You just came back from a hard mission," corrected Coulson, "You've been ordered to rest. Running around this place is not going to do you any…"

"Please, Phil," murmured Clint, "I need this."

It was the _please_ that caught Coulson's attention. The _please_ combined with the rare public use of his first name. His eyes roamed over Clint's face, noting with concern the still dark shadows under the master archer's eyes and the fact that the alert eyes were duller than normal. For a few moments he simply stared at Clint, not giving anything away either through his body language or his expression.

Clint stared back, not backing down but not challenging him either, just waiting, hoping that Coulson would understand what he needed. Just as he always seemed to do.

After several long silent minutes Coulson gave a single huff before turning away. Clint watched as he walked up a small flight of stairs and entered the control room. Working quickly he flipped a few switched, keyed in a pass code and suddenly the arena sprung to life. Clint gave a little whoop of joy calling up, "D'I ever tell you you're the best damn handler in the world."

"Constantly," replied Coulson leaning on the banisters looking down at his charge, "Normally just after I've got your arse out of trouble."

Clint laughed and gave him a half salute before letting the act drop and offering Coulson a true smile calling, "You know I mean it. Each and every time. You are the best."

Coulson gave him a little nod in response, ordering, "Stop wasting time, you've got an hour," he ignored the playfully pathetic mew Clint gave him in response, adding, "And I am watching you. One wobble, one hint that you are not function at full capacity and I'm putting a stop to this."

"I'm fine," lied Clint, his voice holding strong despite the bone weary exhaustion he was still feeling. "Honestly I'm fine. I simply need to get out there and practice."

Coulson huffed again – his normal response to any assurances that Clint gave him that they both knew to be far from the truth – and nodded, "Go on, get out there but remember I'm watching you."

"Wouldn't have any other way, Sir" called Clint winking up at him before sprinting off towards the main arena, arrows already flying as he set off after the moving targets.

x

"Barton, you've got twenty minutes left,"

Coulson's voice echoed around the disused arena, a little distorted by the explosion as Clint's latest volley took out two of the targets. From his vantage point in the control room Coulson watched with more than a little pride as Clint rampaged around the former play area, arrows flying in all direction as he took out each and every target offered to him. He had been running for over forty minutes and while Coulson knew on a good day that was nothing for the master assassin, he knew that at the moment Clint was still recovering from a gruelling mission and that worried him.

As Clint manoeuvred around part of the main area that was visible to the control room, Coulson straightened up and tensed. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. He knew how Clint moved; he knew intimately the smooth fluid movements with which the archer could move from place to place. But right then, the figure down below him in the arena was anything other than fluid. Clint was stumbling, his feet catching on obstacles that normally wouldn't even slow the master assassin down.

"Barton, I'm calling it," ordered Coulson, not even surprised at how like a mission it felt. What did surprise him though was the slightly out of breath, "No, it's only been forty minutes, I'm okay," that came back over the comm.

"I disagree," replied Coulson his vice soft and sooth despite the growing alarm he was feeling, "You're breathing far too heavily for such a short burst of activity. Plus I just saw you stumble and I know for a fact you never stumble. So I'm calling it, Agent. Come back to base."

"No," growled Clint, disappearing from view into one of the darker parts of the arena as he chased after another target, "Just a few more minutes. Just let me…"

"I said no, Barton," replied Coulson firmly then with his voice soften audibly he added, "Come on, come back and we can go home…" he didn't finish his sentence. Instead he was cut off by a muffed cry followed by a loud cure filling the comm.

"Barton?" demand Coulson, "Barton, sit report."

When there was no answer he called, "Clint? What's wrong? Answer me."

When there was still no answer he sprang into action. Reaching for the control pad he typed in the override codes, finally bringing up the dusty and out of focus CCTV images, using them to scan the hidden areas for signs of his now vanished agent. It took him a few agonising moments to locate Clint and when he did, he couldn't stop the gasp escaping his lips. Clint was lying in a crumpled heap on the pathway not moving. Without hesitating Coulson was moving. Bursting out of the control room he didn't bother with the stairs, instead he just jumped over the railings, tucking and rolling as he landed before springing to his feet and setting off at a dead sprint to where he had seen Clint lying.

Skidding to a halt beside the fallen archer, Coulson knelt down. Working quickly he took off the near empty quiver, setting it to the side, before he carefully rolled Clint onto his back, wincing when he saw how pale Clint had become.

"Clint?" called Coulson under his breath, for once his calm exterior had cracked and his true feelings were all too visible. Not that he cared, there was no-one around to see the fear and worry that were etched into his normally calm face and there was no one around to hear the faint shake in his voice as he murmured, "Please be ok, please."

He took several calming breaths, trying to steady his hands as he ran them Clint's body, searching for any tangible signs of injury. Relaxing slightly when he didn't find any, he snapped, "Barton? Barton, come on, wake up!" He resisted the urge to slap the other man, knowing first-hand what happened to anyone who tried to wake him up that way. He still had the scar where Clint's knife had caught his arm when he'd tried that method in Hungry.

When the authoritative voice didn't work, he slipped into the voice he only ever used in private, the one he had only ever used with Clint.

"Clint? Come on open those eyes for me, there's a good boy. Please Clint," he reached over and brushing the short blonde hair, he trailed a finger down the disturbingly pale face, tracing the faint outline of a previous scar. As his finger brushed over the edge of Clint's mouth, gently pressing on the soft lower lip, he sighed and confessed, "You're scaring me right now, darling, and you know I don't scare easily. Please come on…wake up."

Nothing. The only sign that Clint was still alive was the rapid rise and fall of his chest. Bowing his head Coulson silently cursed himself, both as a handler and as a lover. Bending down he brushed a kiss over Clint's forehead, murmuring, "I'm sorry, I should have been stronger, I should have taken better care of you."

Reaching over the unconscious Clint he grabbed the bow, carefully folding it away, before tucking it into the quiver and pulling the quiver up onto his shoulder. Then, displaying strength that none bare a handful of other agents knew he had, he slipped an arm under Clint's legs and his other around his shoulders and lifted the fallen man up. Taking carefully steady steps, making sure not to jar the unconscious man, he carefully carried Clint out of the disused arena and out to their waiting car.

As he settled Clint on the back seat, taking a moment to fold and tuck his quiver and bow beside him, he silently cursed himself for have been so indulgent and giving in to Clint's request to train when he had known it was too soon for such strenuous activity. It was a mistake he swore he would never make again. It was bad enough that Clint was overly reckless with his health, it wouldn't do either of them any good for him to follow suit. He would simply have to be stronger and say no, next time Clint begged him to be allowed to practice.

No matter how big a set of puppy eyes Clint offered him in return. And he knew from bitter experience Clint could offer the most devastating puppy eyes known to man. In fact sometimes he wondered if he should mention their power to Fury, he was almost certain they could be classified as a new potential weapon. Chuckling wryly to himself at the thought of Fury's reaction to such a conversation, he climbed into the driver's seat. Glancing in the rear view mirror he made sure Clint was settled before gently starting the car and driving them back home.

TBC


	5. The Babysitter

Clint came awake with a grown. Everything ached and his head felt so fuzzy he was having difficulty focusing his eyes. It took him several moments before he could register shapes properly and when he did the frown already marring his forehead deepened as he rasped, "Tasha?"

"Welcome back, идиот," called Natasha smiling sweetly even as she insulted Clint to his face.

Wincing at the _idiot_ jibe, Clint gave a slight cough asking gruffly, "Where's Ph…Coulson?" he only just stopped himself for using Coulson's first name. He never said that word except when it was the two of them, it was something he kept for himself, even keeping it from Natasha with whom he normally shared everything.

"He got called in," explain Natasha rising off the chair she had been slumped in. Crossing over to the bed she grabbed a disturbingly bright drink, "Here, drink," she ordered curling up on the bed facing Clint.

He glared at her before taking the drink. Sniffing it he glanced at her and cocked an eyebrow.

"Rehydration fluid," she supplied before adding with sweet hostility, "You've got a course of 4 to drink and if you don't, Coulson said I may use his taser on you so bottoms up, sleeping beauty. Get drinking."

"You're mean," huffed Clint obeying the order nonetheless. He wrinkled his nose as he swallowed down mouthful after mouthful of overly sweet and sticky liquid. Coughing slightly as he lowered the now empty glass he made a playful retching noise then, realising what she had actually said, he sat up asking firmly, "What happened? Why was he called in?"

"Don't know," shrugged Natasha uncurling her legs and rising to her feet. She held her hand out waiting for Clint to give her back to the glass, "He said he had something to take care of and asked if I would come and babysit a specialist who is too stupid to know when to rest and…"

"Don't start," growled Clint, glaring at his partner, "I'm not in the moo…"

"He was scared, Clint!" hissed Natasha slamming the glass down on the side table. Then before Clint could think, she was on him, all but straddling his legs her face level with his, eyes boring into his. He went to look away but she caught his face in surprisingly strong hands adding, "I've never seen him so concerned outside of a mission." Her eyes searched Clint's face before she sat back pushing his face away slightly snapping, "You are such a идиот at times."

"Stop calling me an idiot!" barked Clint, his face hardening. "I didn't do on purpose. I would never do that to him. I just…I…" he ran a hand over his face and screwing his eyes shut, he breathed, "I just needed some release."

The silence in the room was suddenly very noticeable. He knew he had been an idiot, he'd known that even before he'd start chasing those stupid targets in the arena but for a few minutes everything had felt right before it had gone so spectacularly wrong. He slowly opened his eyes and risking a glance at Natasha he found her staring at him with the strangest expression, it was on he couldn't read.

"What?" he asked softly, suddenly feeling very very drained.

"He had to carry you out of that arena," murmured Natasha staring at Clint. She shook her head then sighing she climbed off the bed and with a hand on her hip she huffed, "Come on you've got another 3 drink to takes."

"Tasha," called Clint as she reached the door, "How angry was he?"

With a disarmingly sweet smile, she turned and looking at him over her shoulder, she replied, "He left the apartment with a crocked tie."

Clint swore violently under his breath and sank his head into his hands knowing that when he saw Coulson next he was in for a very hard time.

X oo xxx oo xxxx

As Coulson closed the door to the apartment, he paused, a slight smile tugging at his lips. Curled up on his battered old sofa were two of the deadliest people he knew in the world yet to see them at that moment you would never have guessed it. Natasha was curled up in the corner a bowl of popcorn resting on the arm of the couch. He couldn't see much of Clint but the fact a leg was draped over the over other arm indicated he was lying down, probably using Natasha's lap as a pillow, something that no one else in the world would ever be allowed to do. He never tried to understand their relationship it was deep and dark and complex and if he was honest he didn't want to know. Instead he savoured the fact that they both trusted him enough to drop their guards around him, Clint even allowing him to get under the near impenetrable armour to see the real man behind the myth.

"Feeling better?"

Natasha glanced over and Coulson knew she had been aware of him long before he spoke. She favoured him with a real smile then lifted a finger to her lips, pointing down at the still invisible Clint as she did.

Coulson nodded. Dropping his case and shrugging off his jacket he wandered around the side of the sofa and crouched down in front of them. Not caring that Natasha was watching him, he leant forward and ran his hand over Clint's hair, his fingers lingering on the dark blonde strands. His eyes searched Clint's sleeping face noting with some relief the fact the dark shadows had receded slightly, they were still there but not nearly as visible as when he had left.

"Did he drink the entire course?" he asked without taking his eyes off Clint.

"Every single drop," replied Natasha her hand absently caressing Clint's shoulder, "Although he did try and hide from me by the fourth glass." Coulson flicked her a look and she grinned, explaining innocently, "I simply reminded him I had your permission to taser him. For some reason that brought him down off the top of the wardrobe."

Coulson nodded in approval, the lines around his eyes crinkling slightly with silent laughter at the image of Clint trying to hide on top of the wardrobe.

"Clint?" called Coulson softly, running a finger along the edge of Clint's cheek, taking care to keep his touch light and unthreatening, knowing what could happen if Barton was frightened awake. After a few more gentle calls Clint's eyes started to move and after a few seconds sleepy eyes where gazing at Coulson.

"Hey," breathed Coulson, the slightest smile tugging at his lips.

Clint smiled back at him before sitting up. He wobbled slightly at the sudden movement and both Coulson and Natasha reached for him steadying. He glared at them both before relenting and mumbling, "Thanks."

Natasha rolled her eyes then extracting herself from the sofa she asked softly, "Since he's awake and you're here, I'm guessing I'm not needed anymore?"

"You're always needed," assured Coulson getting to his feet. He escorted her to the door. As she glanced back at the sofa where Clint was slumped Coulson murmured, "I'll take car of him."

"I know," replied Natasha after a few moments. She took a final glance back before adding with a wicked smirk, "Don't make him suffer too much."

Coulson simply smiled at her and wished her a goodnight.

X cc xxx oooxxx

Clint kept his head down. He knew Coulson was angry, he could feel it there was a tension in the apartment and there was a tension in Coulson's body, especially across his shoulders that spoke volumes. Not one to willingly face his emotions and all the baggage they normally bought Clint clenched his hands and unclenched them before calling softly, "I'm sorry. I…that I…. that…" words failed him and he screwed his eyes shut silently cursing his inability to speak.

"Do you want homemade pasta for dinner or are you up to a take out?" asked Coulson from the kitchen, his voice muffled by the cupboard he was currently rummaging in.

Clint frowned and levering himself up he wandered out to the kitchen. He was trying to apologise and Coulson was talking about food. Huffing slightly he ploughed on, "I didn't mean to scare you and I didn't mean to collapse. I just, I need to make sure that…"

"I think take out," mused Coulson stepping back and closing the cupboard, "Which do you fancy Chinese? Pizza? Greek? I think I have a few menus around…"

"Damn it, will you listen to me!" yelled Clint frustrated at the lack of attention Coulson was playing him, "I'm trying to apologise and I…".

"Yes I know," replied Coulson softly. He closed the gap between them. Holding Clint's gaze he smiled gently and ordered, "Go and sit on the sofa and I'll take care of dinner." Clint opened his mouth to protest but Coulson simply looked at him and raised his eyebrows a fraction. It was a look that had been known to bring entire regimes to their knees. And Clint was no exception. But despite the fact his knees felt ready to buckle he stood his ground, no matter how hard it was not to give in and curl up on the sofa as ordered, and snapped, "No, I want to talk to you. I want to…"

"Clint," interrupted Coulson his voice dropping a few levels as he explained firmly, "Shut up. We will talk, but not now. Right now I need some food and so you and I am too tired to be bothered to cook properly. So for once be a good boy go sit on the sofa, find us something mind-numbingly stupid to watch on TV and I'll order us some food." He paused for a second then asked tenderly, "Can you do that for me, Darling?"

Clint started at him, half of him rankling at the way he was being treated like a child but the other half, the half that was currently winning the internal battle, positively glowed with delight at the way Coulson was taking care of him. He knew he was in for a tough evening, Coulson still looked far too tense and there were lines on his face that shouldn't be there but for the moment Clint was prepared to forget the fact he had been an idiot. And he was more than delighted for the chance to curl up with _his_ Phil in front of the TV sharing a take out. – a rare moment of domestic bliss in an otherwise un-normal existence.

He glanced at Coulson, at _his_ Phil and nodded, gaining a soft smile in response. Then without thinking and without really meaning to he leant in and pressing his lips against Coulson he murmured "I'm sorry."

"I know," breathed Coulson softy, "But you're still an idiot and we need to talk about that."

Clint pulled back nodding slightly, trying not to gulp at the idea of having a proper talk with Coulson. It was one thing to be on the receiving end of a Coulson dress down at the end of a mission, but the prospect of receiving the same sort of talk in the middle of Phil's apartment was probably one of the most terrifying things Clint had ever faced. But as he flicked his gaze up he realised Coulson was watching him closely and once again just knowing Coulson was watching him made him feel better. Offering a wry knowing smile he turned and finally obeyed the order Coulson had given him a few minutes before, earning himself a soft barely-there, "Good boy." It was a soft breath of praise that did so much to soothe his churning emotions, that by the time he sank down onto the battered, comfortable sofa he was actually more relaxed than he had been since waking up that morning.

TBC


	6. The Talk part 1

Setting the used containers on the side, Clint took a moment to compose himself before asking, with slightly more snap in his tone than he meant, "I guess you want to have that talk now?"

Coulson didn't reply. He simply scooped up the remains of the take away and tidied the kitchen moving effortlessly around Clint. His face was worrying blank, there was no soft smile, no slight tug at the corners of his eyes indicating the silent laughter he often revealed when they were alone. If anything he looked more alert and more on edge than when they were in the middle of an assignment that wasn't going well. Feeling even worse than he did before, Clint turned and leant back against the counter top watching the older man move around him. He hated the fact that he was to blame for the tension in the room but he knew too it was nothing new; he was always the one who screwed things up always. He was always the one how…

"I'm not angry with you," stated Coulson, his voice deceptively gentle.

Clint flicked him a disbelieving look and earned a slight softening around Coulson's eyes in reply.

"I'm as much to blame as you are," continued Coulson softly, "Maybe even more so than you. I should have been firmer. I should have ordered you to stop much earlier."

"I'm a grown man," interrupted Clint automatically bristling at the idea of being told what to do and when, "I don't need looking aft…"

"You have a habit of being less than careful with your own health," countered Coulson effectively silencing Clint's argument. He regarded him for a few moments before shaking his head and sighing, "You're so good at what you do, you forget that you're only human, you forget your body actually has limits."

Clint bit the inside of his lip, he knew Coulson was paying him a compliment but he still felt like he was being reprimanded at the same time.

"You're reckless," continued Coulson turning so he was facing Clint properly, "You take stupid risks, you jeopardise your health and your wellbeing just to prove a point, you act first and think later and it has to stop. It has to stop now."

Clint balled his fists, glaring at Coulson. His natural instinct was to argue, to make some sarcastic remake back to hide how shaken he was by the fact Coulson could always see beneath his mask but he couldn't. Not to Coulson, not when they were talking about this, not when they were talking about something so personal. So he simply bit down harder on his lip, jumping at the sudden explosion of pain and the coppery taste filling his mouth.

Coulson regards him a moment, the knowing eyes narrowing slightly as he did. Then without speaking he ripped a piece of kitchen paper off the roll, crossed to where Clint was standing and held the paper towel up against his mouth. When Clint didn't react, Coulson simply raised single eyebrow. Fighting hard not to huff like a petulant teenager Clint spat into the towel wincing as his injured lip flared with pain.

Flinging the now bloodied towel into the bin and rinsing his hands, Coulson resumed his place opposite Clint, the knowing eyes raking over him seeing more than anyone else had ever seen about the man standing in front of.

Clint worried his split lip with his tongue unable to stop from poking and prodding it. Colson watched him for a few moments then pushing away from the counter he closed the gap between them and, standing just outside of Clint's personal space, he looked the archer straight in the eyes and summarised, "You need someone to take care of you. To stop you from making those stupid, reckless decisions." He gave a slight almost knowing smile as he added wistfully, "And you really need to stop trying to think for yourself because so far the results haven't been great."

Clint bristled but then just as he was about to explode at the implication he caught the tell-tale twinkle in Coulson's eyes. Bowing his head, he swore violently under his breath before snapping, "I didn't mean to scare you at the range," his voice caught in his throat and falling back to his usual level of sass he added with a smirk, "Besides what the big deal? I got the mission done, didn't I? It's not like I flaked out during a mission or anything. It was only practice time."

"Yes," concede Coulson, "You did get the mission done. And in record time in fact. A six day surveillance mission became a three day snipe and strike, taking down 3 main players, one of whom wasn't even on our radar at that time. It was very impression yet totally and utterly reckless. The lead agent on the mission should never have allowed it. They should have overruled you and enforced the mission plan, both to safe guard the mission and to safe guard you and…"

"I didn't trust them to make the right call," growled Clint, glaring at Coulson, before confessing with a slight snap, "Not with the mission and I sure as hell didn't trust him to look out for me."

For a moment Coulson tensed slightly but then he nodded in agreement, "Having read and heard first-hand the lead agents report I'm not surprised you didn't trust them. They were an idiot and will be spending the next few months guarding a lump of ice up in the artic." Clint didn't even try and hide his gloating smile at that news but Coulson didn't responded he carried on firmly, "But their idiocy aside, you took stupid risks on the mission and you took even stupider ones when you returned and I won't allow you to do that anymore. You're too valuable an asset..."

"What?" hissed Clint his entire body tensing at the notion of being nothing more than an asset, "Is that all that I am a valuable assets?"

"You are a very valuable asset to Shield," clarified Coulson. He paused for a moment, then, with the perfect agent mask slipping completely, he bought his hand up and caressing the back of Clint's neck he added in a softer tone, "And totally irreplaceable to me."

Clint swallowed hard. He tried hard not to moan as Coulson's fingers tightened around the back of his neck. Exerting just a little pressure, Coulson pulled them closer and leaning in, he whispered in Clint's ear, "You know what you mean to me and I know you trust me. So let me take care of everything. You have no idea how much I hated not being there to look after you on that mission. And as for what happened at the range…" his voice faded into an all too familiar huff. For a moment Clint thought, or rather hoped Coulson was going to kiss him or at least embrace him but to his disappointment Colson actually moved away. Clint watched as Coulson visibly pulled himself back together, before confessing in a slightly firmer tone, "I hate the thought of anything bad happening to you when I'm not there to catch you."

Clint's eyes roamed over Coulson's face, drinking in every aspect of the quiet, unassuming man in front of him. Coulson was everything he wasn't. It should annoy him that this calm, unflappable man had such a hold over him but it didn't it. It made him feel warm and loved and that was a rare almost unique feeling. He swallowed again and toying with his split lip he asked gruffly, "What did you have in mind?"

Coulson took a deep breath and, putting a little space between them, he replied, "For us to do a complete scene. A scene where you let go totally. For the rest of your leave period let me take care of everything. You won't have to think, you won't have to plan, just obey. You just simply have to be."

It was tempting. Really tempting. They had indulged in this sort of full-on scene before. After a previous mission where Clint had been so messed up he had been on the verge of bolting. Then the session had been hard and brutal. He'd needed a strong handler, the sharp commands and more than a few intense sessions with the flat of Coulson hand on the back of his behind reminding him he was still alive, that Coulson was still beside him. It had been what he'd needed then and it had pulled him back from the edge of madness. But right now that wasn't what he needed. He didn't need hard lines and fixed parameters with the set punishments for any infractions. He didn't need Coulson in all-powerful dom mode. He needed something completely different and that terrified the hell out of him.

He flicked his eyes to the side and gave a little huff, snapping grumpily, "I don't know. I…"

"It's up to you," soothed Coulson, his voice still wonderfully soft, "Just tell me what you need." He took another step away, giving Clint the space to either run and pace, whichever he needed to do,

Clint didn't reply. He didn't know how to ask for what he really wanted. He didn't know how to vocalise the need to simply feel safe. He wanted soft words and even softer touches. He wanted to know that no matter how much he screwed up there was one person in the world who wouldn't judge him too much, who wouldn't give up on him. He needed to know that no matter how much his mouth ran away with him there was one person who would give it right back to him. He knew what he needed he just didn't have a clue about how to say it out loud. For once the notoriously mouthy Hawkeye was lost for words.

It was several minutes before Coulson gave him a knowing huff that could almost have been a chuckle, the older man musing, "You need a gentler hand than before, don't you?"

Clint nodded in relief, "God yes," he breathed fighting hard not to blush at the thought of confessing such a pathetically weak need.

"I thought so," chuckled Coulson smiling warmly at the younger man, "I can do that as well. I can give you whatever you need, you just need to talk to me, that's all." He regarded Clint a moment then with a soft smile he leant in and pressed his lips against Clint's, kissing him gently. Clint leant into the kiss but just as he started to response Coulson pulled away regarding him fondly although his eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at Clint. With a little hum of concentration, he suggested, "I think we should go back to the lounge and sit down. You look tired again, and we can continue this talk in there."

Clint hesitated and absently worrying the split in his lip with his tongue, he asked, "But what about you? I mean last time we did something like this, it got pretty intense and well I know you enjoyed it, hell we both did but what about this. I mean what will you get out of this sort of scene?"

Coulson gave him a wide smile one that dripped with pride and amusement in equal measure, "Don't worry about me," soothed Coulson, "I wouldn't have offered to do this if I didn't want it as well," he rested his hand in the small of Clint's back and gently pushed the archer ahead of him adding absently, "You go ahead, I'll be through in a moment."

TBC


	7. The Talk part 2

Coulson tarried a little longer than he had planned in the kitchen. Despite his best intentions he couldn't leave the dirty plates cluttering up the sink so without thinking he quickly washed them up and set them to dry on the side board. It meant that instead of following Clint into the lounge he arrived about ten minutes later than he intended. And that delay had given Clint enough time to go from fairly relaxed about what had been proposed to being frantically on edge again. Coulson couldn't help the sad smile that tugged at his lips as he strode into the small lounge to find Clint pacing like a caged animal. His head was bowed and his hands were clenching and unclenching into tight fists. Coulson could almost hear the wheels going around the younger man's brains as he once again over through the entire situation. Instantly Coulson knew what was wrong and he knew how to counteract the panic he could see filling Clint's systems.

Without even breaking stride he intercepted Clint's pacing. Not given Clint the chance to react, he reached out and, as he curled his fingers around Clint's exposed wrist, he soothed, "Wanting a soft scene doesn't make you less of a man. It simply means you're starting to listen to what your body needs rather than trying to be something you're not."

Clint glared at him and for a moment Coulson could see the anger and insubordination that filled the archer's personal file. But then just as quick it faded leaving a very tired looking young man. For several moments they simply faced each other, Clint's eyes dancing around flittering around the room before landing on Coulson, only to skit away again, while Coulson kept his face neutral. Every ounce of his willpower going into keeping the calm, reassuring façade he knew Clint needed right there and then.

It took several minutes for Clint to finally look him square in the eye and when he did he looked so lost it nearly broke Coulson's heart.

"I don't know what to do," confessed Clint so softly it was almost as if he hadn't spoken.

Acting on instinct alone Coulson ran his hand up Clint's bare arm and allowed his fingers to curl around the back of Clint's neck. It was one of their favourite holds. It was one they often used even out in the field, one that allowed them both to know the other was still alive and safe without giving too much away. Stepping closer Coulson gently eased Clint forward until the archer was pressed against him, his forehead resting on Coulson's shoulder. Tilting his head so his cheek brushed against Clint's short hair, he soothed, "You don't need to do anything; you just need to trust me. More than you have ever trusted me before," he added softly when he felt Clint move as if to protest.

"What we're about to do will take more trust and understanding than anything we've ever done out in the field." He took a deep breath then gently easing Clint's face up so he could look into the normally all seeing eyes he smiled faintly and asked gently, "Can you do that, darling? Can you trust me that much?"

"I already do," confessed Clint in a heartbreakingly honest whisper.

A faint blush seemed to works its way up Clint's cheeks as he realised what he had confessed. He went to pull away but Coulson didn't let him. Instead he cupped the side of Clint's face with one hand and offering the warmest smile possible, he murmured, "Then we can do this. That's all I needed to hear."

Clint bit his lower lip a moment, then with a huff of bitter sweet laughter, he asked, "So how the hell does this work?"

Coulson simply cocked his head and waited.

"I know how to act in a hard scene," snapped Clint when Coulson didn't reply, "I know how to get into the right head space for those sessions, it's easy. But this? What you're suggesting, a complete scene that's that soft? How the hell do I that? I mean what am I going to be pushing against, I…"

"Barton!" exclaimed Coulson, his voice slipping into mission mode, "Stop talking."

Clint's mouth snapped shut before his brain had even caught up with what Coulson had just said him. Pouting at his handler, he never the less obeyed, staying quiet long enough for Coulson to clarify, "This scene will be just like any other we've ever done. Ok, it won't be extreme, and yes there are less tangible restraints and barriers for you to fight against but the base line is the same - you do what I say, when I say or there will be consequences. Admittedly they won't be as hard or as punishing as before but nevertheless they will still there."

He paused letting his words sink in before he straightened up and, with just a hint of dominance in his voice, he stated firmly, "The whole point of this scene is for you to let go and for you to do that, you have to submit to me 100 percent or there is no point in us going any further."

Client stared at him then gave a slight nodded, indicating he was still listening and still thinking about what Coulson was saying.

"Your safe word remains," continued Coulson, feeling as he was briefing his specialist ready for a mission. In some ways it helped to think of it as a mission. Because if he didn't, if he thought about what it meant to be given so much trust by a man who had been taught never to trust, it was slightly overwhelming even for him. "Just because this isn't hard doesn't mean we do this without precautions. Sometimes the gentler the scene, the more intense it can be and the greater the need for safe words. Do you remember the colour code?" he asked firmly despite the softening of the lines around his eyes.

"Green means carry on, amber means I need a moment and red means stop," confirmed Clint, his voice reverberating with the self-assuredness he normally saved for mission reports.

"Good boy," praised Coulson, smiling faintly. He waited a moment but when Clint didn't carry on he sighed and prompted, "And your safe word is?"

"Oh come on," exclaimed Clint, smirking slightly, "You know what it is."

"I need to hear you say," ordered Coulson, totally unmoved by the playful glare Clint was throwing him "I need you to confirm it for me."

Clint looked on the verge of rebellion but a well place huff from Coulson and he relented, sighing dramatically, "Natasha."

"Well done," praised Coulson leaning in to claim a soft kiss from Clint's pouting lips.

"You ever tell her that I use her name as my safe word and I will…" began Clint but Coulson interrupted him stating firmly, "I would never betray you like that."

He ran a finger along the line of Clint's jaw and, with a force that left Clint breathless, he promised, "I would rather die than betray your trust."

Clint swore under his breath then, before Coulson could react, he was kissing him. It wasn't like the other kisses they had shared so far that night. This had nothing to do with reassurance and everything to do with pure, blind passion and desire.

Breaking the kiss with a sigh, Clint gasped, "How do you want to do this?"

"Slowly and carefully," replied Coulson, pressing nipping kisses along Clint's jawline and neck, "There is no rush, no need to force the pace. We'll take thing slowly and let the scene unfold by itself. Agreed?"

Clint licked his lips then nodded before asking, "Do I get to ask for things in this scene?"

"That depends on what you're asking for," replied Coulson with a knowing chuckle.

"Kiss me again?" asked Clint in a voice so far from his normal cocky brash self it was almost unnerving. Well unnerving for anyone who didn't know him as well as Coulson did. Without hesitating, Coulson leant back in and whispered, "Willingly," before claiming Clint's mouth for gentle but knowing kiss.

Clint groaned into the kiss, the noise making Colson shudder in response. Breaking apart for air, Coulson ran his hand over Clint's hair. He took a good long hard look at the younger man before nodding slightly to himself, satisfied that the dark shadows under Clint's eyes were staring to face and that Clint's eyes were finally starting to sparkle again. Humming softly to himself, he took a step back, smiling with delight when Clint automatically took a step forward to follow him. Chuckling at the expression on the normally very independent specialist's face, he reached down and taking Clint's hand, he guided him over to the couch, ordering gently, "Come on we're going to watch some TV then it's an early night for both of us."

Clint didn't object, if anything he as more pliable and accommodating than Coulson had ever known him. It took them a few moments to get settled but finally, as Clint lay sprawled on the couch, his head resting on Coulson's chest, Coulson found himself stroking Clint's bare arm with the softest of smiles playing over his lips as he realised Clint was actually falling asleep. Brushing a soft kiss against the short hair, Coulson settled back to watch the latest episode of Supernanny. As he let the programme wash over him, he started to relax and, for the first time since Clint had stepped off the plane the previous night, he finally began to hope that if he could steer Clint through the next few days without further mishap, then maybe, just maybe, everything really would be okay.

TBC


	8. The Scene part 1

Clint came awake with a start. For a moment he couldn't remember where he was and as his instinct kicked in, he went to sit up only for an arm curl around his shoulder and a calm familiar voice to murmur in his ear, "At ease, specialist, location is secure."

He couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped his dry throat as he finally blinked his eyes open and remembered where he was.

"Hey boss," he crocked, frowning when he realised he was sprawled across Phil's sofa, using said handler's chest as a pillow. He blinked a few more times than asked with a slight snigger, "Did I fall asleep on you?"

"Yes," replied Coulson, his face blank for a moment before he smiled and added teasingly, "You were snoring as well."

"I do not snore!" exclaimed Clint struggling to sit up. His body felt heavy and unresponsive and he hated that. He always hated the first few days after a mission, especially a mission as tough as the last one.

"Yes you do," argued Coulson gently helping Clint to sit up, "You snuffle as well. I had to turn the sound up on the television."

Clint glared at him eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to work out if Phil was teasing him or not. When he failed to get a read on the older man, he shot Phil a wink and countered, "Yeah well at least I didn't drool over you like Tasha."

"That is true," agreed Phil, grimacing at the memory of drugged and out-of-it Natasha drooling over his shoulder on a tortuous plane ride home after one disastrous mission. "That was another suit you two managed to ruin." Sighing dramatically he pushed himself up and off the sofa, stretching slightly as he did.

Despite the fact he loved snuggling with Clint; the other man was still a fully grown adult and had the managed to cut the circulation off to the shoulder he'd been leaning again. Glancing down he realised Clint was watching him like a hawk. Smiling faintly he stretched some more, knowing his t-shirt had ridden up and was giving Clint a little glimpse of his stomach. He wasn't naturally a tease but there was something to be said in making Clint Barton practically pant with lust while stretched out on his sofa. Lowering his arms down he smiled warmly at the other man and offered his hand to help Clint up off the sofa.

Clint was finding it hard to breathe. There was something about catching glimpses of Phil's body that did things to him. It shouldn't, he had seen things that would make most peoples toes curl but there was something about seeing the body that was normally encased in layers of fine tailoring that fried Clint's brain. When Phil flexed his fingers in front of his face, a silent but nevertheless pointed instruction to take the hand, Clint couldn't help but stare at it. He was fighting an internal battle. Every instinct was telling him he didn't need help, that to ask for help was to be weak but then he remembered who was offering him the help and without further hesitation he grabbed hold of the hand and let Phil pull him to his feet.

Running his hand up and down Clint's bare arm, Phil took a moment to look at him, the all-seeing eyes noting the lessening shadows under Clint's eyes and the almost back to normal sparkle in the talented eyes. Nodding his head contentedly Phil ordered softly, "You take the bathroom first but don't get change for bed. Just go and wait for me in the bedroom when you're finished."

Clint nodded and was already moving towards the bathroom when he paused and glanced back over his shoulder. He bit his lower lip – a nervous habit he had never quite managed to get rid of – and asked, "Are we starting the scene?"

Phil didn't answer at once. Instead he waited a few moments before nodding and replying firmly, "Yes."

The smile that lit up Clint's face told Phil he'd made the right decision.

X oo x o xxxx

"Clint?"

Clint's head shot up and he stared at the doorway. Phil was standing in the open doorway watching him, the knowing eyes seeing more than most. Getting to his feet Clint licked his lips and murmured "I wasn't sure how long you'd be so I sat down."

"Its okay," soothed Phil quickly closing the gap between them, "I didn't give you any instruction on how to wait. You were perfectly entitled to sit down."

Clint let go a breath he hadn't realised he was holding. While he knew this was going to be softer than before, it didn't mean he actively wanted Phil to punish him. Searching the other man's face he saw nothing but tenderness and care and not for the first time that night he felt another little part of his heart melt at the sight.

"Relax," ordered Phil offering a disarmingly soft smile – it was a smile that Clint had seen bring bad guys to their knees.

"I'm trying," replied Clint honestly as he nibbled his lower lip.

Phil cocked a sceptical eyebrow them reaching out he caressed the back of Clint's neck, his eyes hardening slightly when he realised how tense the younger man was. Instantly he knew what to do.

"I think you need a hand relaxing." he slid his hand away from Clint's neck and ran it down Clint's chest, his fingers catching on the wrinkled t-shirt. Clint followed the line of the hand with his eyes then flicking a look at Phil, he frowned slightly.

Not responding to the silent question, Phil simply took a step closer his hand coming to rest on Clint's hip before gently pushing the younger man around. Getting Clint to turn so he was facing the bed, Phil indulged himself for a moment drinking in the sight of Clint dressed in the loose fitting t-shirt and jog bottoms.

"I'm going to undress you," explained Phil his voice low and soothing, "You're not to move unless I tell you to. Understand?"

"Yes sir," replied Clint automatically.

"You don't need to call me sir," corrected Phil with a little chuckle, "We're not out in the field now. Not that you ever call me sir when we're on duty"

Clint glanced over his shoulder and gave Phil a wicked smirk as he replied sassily, "Yes Phil."

Phil barely suppressed the shudder of delight at hearing his name said with so much underlying meaning. He leant forward pressing against Clint's back and ordered softly, "Eyes front and keep still."

The smirk lighting up Clint's face did more to ease Phil's worries about the younger man than anything.

Clint shivered as he felt Phil's hands under the soft material of his t-shirt and gently caress his sides. He bit down hard on his lower lip. Every instinct was screaming at him to move, to react to the soft teasing touches currently flittering over his torso but he didn't. If there was one thing he could do it was obey an order. Admittedly he might not obey most orders in the field but he always obeyed Phil. He trusted Phil. More than anyone else he had ever met in his life. And it wasn't just in the field. He trusted Phil personally as well. Trusted him enough that he didn't even react when he felt a breath brush over the back of his neck, a breath that was followed by the ghost of a kiss and a whispered, "Good boy. Arms up over your head."

Clint obeyed raising his arms straight over his head. As Phil pulled the t-shirt up and over his head he pressed himself against Clint's back. Then as he threw the t-shirt to the side, he slid an arm around Clint's waist and pulled him back into the embrace. Clint flowed obediently against him, the strong powerful body surprisingly malleable under Phil's commanding touches.

"Still so tense," muses Phil pressing a soft kiss to the rock hard tendons visible on Clint's shoulders, "I need you to relax, Darling. Do you need me to help you relax?"

Clint nodded silently. He refused to admit it but his eyes were already fluttering shut from the soft touches Phil was absently giving him. And he certainly did not mew with disappoint when Phil broke the embrace to step away.

Letting his eyes rake down Clint's back Phil's eyes narrowed in anger as he noted the faint scars marring the powerful back. Scars he knew had been left by others, scars that made him want to hurt anyone who had ever inflicted a moment's pain on the man standing in front of him. Ghosting his hand down Clint's back, he slowly sank to his knees, bringing him face to face with one of his favourite sights in the world. Clint's backside. Currently encased in soft grey jog pants it was still enough to make Phil's breath hitch in admiration. Running his hands reverently over the firm swell he leant in and pressed a kiss just above the waist band.

Clint gasped and tensed, his hips jerking forward at the soft kiss and his hands clenched into tight fists.

"Stay still," reminded Phil landing a gentle thump against Clint's hip, "No moving unless I tell you to."

"Yes Sir," breathed Clint forgetting Phil's former comment about the honorific title.

Phil let it slide. Tucking his fingers into the waist band of the jog bottoms, he gently eased them down. Lowering them slowly, he let Clint feel the material drag over his body, letting the other man get used to the idea that he was being undressed and stripped of all his layers. As he pulled them past Clint's knees, he ordered, "Left foot," Clint lifted his left foot letting Phil slide the pants off that leg.

"Right foot," again Clint obeyed letting Phil pull the jog bottoms off.

Shivering as the cool air swirled around him, Clint glanced behind him and groaned. There was something about seeing Phil kneeling behind him that did strange things to his brain. Without meaning to he reached out his hand reaching to touch Phil's head, needing to have some contact with the amazing man currently stroking his calves.

"Stay still," ordered Phil without looking up.

"Please," murmured Clint not the least bit surprised that Phil knew what he was thinking.

"Not yet," soothed Phil leaning into press a kiss against Clint's exposed hip, "I want you to stay still darling, not touching, either yourself or me."

He ignored the near pathetic mew that Clint gave and instead gently increased the pressure on Clint's legs moving him until the younger man had turned and was finally facing him. Sinking back onto his heels Phil continued to caress the firm calves. Letting his eyes roam over the exposed naked body in front of him he finally looked up and saw Clint staring down at him a look of desperate need flooding his face.

"Sit on the edge of the bed," he ordered watching closely as Clint took a few steps back and sank obediently on the bed, the cocky archer spreading his legs a little wide than necessary. Chuckling Phil teased, "Show off."

Clint grinned at him but then Phil saw the uncertainly flash over the younger man's face again and that wouldn't do. Phil shuffled forward a few paces until he was kneeling between Clint's spread legs. Curling a hand around Clint's ankle he gently lifted his foot and rested it on his thigh. Looking up he caught Clint's eyes and holding the questioning gaze he ordered, "Remember stay still and keep your hands to yourself - no touching me or yourself."

The without warning he carefully bent forward and pressed a kiss to the top of Clint's foot before he started to give Clint a mind numbing foot massage.

TBC


	9. The Scene part 2

"You okay down there?" asked Phil pressing a soft kiss to small of Clint's back.

All he got back was a half grunt and a slight full body wriggle.

"I need you to be a little more articulate," added Phil idly stroking his hands up and down Clint's black.

"Fine," grunted Clint his face still half buried in the pillow he was currently cradling in his arms.

"You sure?" teased Phil leaning down to press a softer kiss to the back of Clint's neck.

He got another grunt in response and a plaintive mew when he sat up breaking the full body contact they had been enjoying. He had been massaging Clint's body for the last hour, studiously working over each limb. He spent ages on Clint's hands and arms before he'd settled into place on Clint's lower back, his hands starting to knead the still tense back muscles.

Smiling to himself, Phil started to work his thumbs around the base of Clint's neck, earning yet another full body shudder and a stifled mew of enjoyment. It was those little noises that told him everything was fine. He knew from bitter experience if Clint was silent it meant he was in pain, and that when he made the little yaps and mews currently filling the bedroom, it meant he was enjoying every single second of massage. Working methodically over the tense muscles Phil's eyes narrowed as he took in the thin white lines that marred Clint's flesh. He hated those all too visible remainders of Clint's past, both before and after he had signed up to work for SHEILD. He took some comfort in the fact that less of the scars had occurred after they had been acquainted but that didn't' stop his heart aching at the knowledge that before Clint found the relative safety of SHELID he had suffered a less than enjoyed adolescence.

"They're not your fault," murmured Clint his head turned so he could look back over his shoulder at Phil.

"I know," replied Phil softly a sad smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, "But it doesn't stop me regretting them."

Clint didn't reply but he did unfold an arm and reach back to touch Phil's knee that was currently pressed along his side.

"No touching," replied Phil, gently landed a soft barely there slap to the middle of Clint's spine.

Clint mewed and pouted at him over his shoulder but nevertheless his hand disappeared back under the pillow. Wriggling slightly he took a deep breath then gripped playfully, "You know you're kind of heavy, Sir."

"Want me to get off you?" asked Phil stilling his hands.

"God no," chuckled Clint pushing his hips up making Phil tightened his thighs around Clint's torso to keep his balance, "I was just saying…" he paused then burrowing his head back in the pillow he confused softly, "Feels good. Feels…nice."

Phil smiled widely – not that Clint couldn't see – and continued with the back massage. A few minutes later as he worked a particularly tight knot, Clint gave a louder than normal mew and Phil noticed he was starting to squirm more, the archer's hips rolling from side to side as much as they could.

"Clint," called Phil making the younger man's name sound like a warning, a reprimand and a chuckle in one, "No moving. That includes your hips.W

"But you're killing me here," mewed Clint twisting his head slightly so he could look over his shoulder, "Seriously. You've been touching me for over an hour and the only part of me that hasn't had contact is the one part that really, really wants you."

"I'm giving you a massage," replied Phil, his face stoically blank.

"Yeah but you're not massaging a part of me that really needs some attention," replied Clint, "I am so hard right now. I…"

"This isn't about sex," corrected Phil although he did lean down and press another soft kiss to the back of Clint's neck, "This is about me taking care of you and right now…"

"Right now my dick really needs you to take care of it," grunted Clint.

He started to move his arms pulling them down so he could push himself up. They both knew he was strong enough to do press ups with Phil on his back, admittedly he wouldn't managed to do that many but he could move enough that he would get clear of the bed. And Phil couldn't allow that.

But before Clint could even move, Phil curled a hand around the back of his neck and pushed him back down ordering firmly, "I said no moving."

Clint collapsed back to the mattress huffing loudly although he didn't try and move again. He turned his head slightly glancing up at Phil and the look on his face nearly broke Phil's heart. Leaning down he bumped his face against the back of Clint's head and murmured softly, "You need to trust me on this, Darling, this isn't about sex. This is about me taking proper care of you."

"But…"

"No buts," corrected Phil shifting so he could press a kiss to the side of Clint's mouth. Clint strained to turn his head to claim a proper kiss but Phil wouldn't allow it. Keeping his firm grip on the back of Clint neck Phil slowly sat up. He stared at the strong exposed back beneath him and with what passed as a sigh for him he reluctantly dismounted Clint's hips and settled down beside other man. Keeping his grip in place he nudged Clint's hip moving the young man over slightly giving him more space to stretch out.

Turning his hold from a restraining one into a soft caress he finally let go of Clint's neck, and ordered softly, "Turn over,"

Clint obeyed, flipping over onto his back. As he lay spread out before Phil's knowing gaze he let his legs fall open a little more than necessary, basically displaying himself for his handler's pleasure. And it was an action that wasn't lost Phil.

"Show off," he chuckled dryly leaning down to allow their first proper kiss of the scene. Clint latched onto the kiss like a man possessed. But when his hand came up to touch Phil, to pull him closer Phil caught his wrist and pinned it to the pillow beside Clint's head murmuring, "No touching. It's such a simple order; even you should be able to follow it."

Clint groaned in annoyance but he still obeyed the order. He pulled his hand free of Phil's grip and glaring petulantly at his handler and lover he very deliberately reached up and curled both fists around the bottom run of the headboard. Phil watched a moment then leaning down he pressed a kiss to both exposed wrists before pulling back and praising warmly, "Good boy."

While he regretted the no touching rule – there was nothing he loved more than feeling Clint's hand roaming over his own body he knew he needed to be strong. Clint needed him to be strong. But however he might regret not feeling him, the visible full body shudder that rippled through Clint more than made up for the lack of contact between them. When Clint turned his lower body towards Phil, the lithe archer practically rubbing against Phil's clothed body like an overgrown cat, it took all of Phil's steel control to pull away and order, "Lie still."

"You're mean," pouted Clint the dark eyes sparkling with more life than he had shown in a long time.

But even as Phil started to smile he was struck by how pale Clint was looking. The dark shadows seemed to have reappeared under Clint's eyes and while Clint's body seemed more than responsive to his current attention Phil was all too aware how quickly things could deteriorate. Not wanting to risk Clint's health more than necessary, he pressed his hand flat against the firm plan of Clint's hip, "I mean it," he ordered , "Lie still."

"Hard to when you look so good," snapped Clint, glaring fondly at him. He paused then offering Phil the biggest set of puppy eyes ever, he added, "Please Phil – I want to touch you."

Phil held Clint's gaze and with more willpower than he knew he possessed he slowly shook his head replying firmly, "Negative. Previous order stands. No touching."

Clint swore under his breath, smacking his head backwards into pillow, "I'm fine!" he protested, "For god sake I've been in worse shape before and we've still done stuff."

"You've never collapsed before," replied Phil softly his voice disarmingly calm, "You've never scared me so much before that I had to call Natasha to come and watch you while you slept." He turned slightly so he could look at Clint properly and without raising his voice he added forcefully, "We are doing this my way and until you earn the right there will be no touching for you."

The responding groan that filled the bedroom was enough to make Phil crack a very knowing smirk.

TBC


	10. The Scene part 3

Sorry this took so long to update. RL was/is being a bitch! Hope you are still enjoying the story and thank you to those who have left comments, means a lot.

On to the story…

**Part 10**

"Open your eyes," ordered Phil.

He was currently reclining beside Clint, propped up on one elbow while his other hand absently roamed over Clint's chest, pausing every now and then to stoke the frim flesh.

Slowly Clint obeyed, his eyes blinking open until he was glaring up at Phil, the stormy eyes looking more alive than they had in hours. With the slightest of smirks tugging at his lips Phil sat back and commented flatly, "You look pissed off."

"I am," grunted Clint, shifting slightly beside him but he didn't break the hold on the headboard. He gripped the lower rail as if it was the only thing keeping him sane. He rolled his hips, his straining erection twitching with need as he tried to get comfortable.

Phil cocked an eyebrow but didn't make any other comment. Instead he simply reached up and stroked a finger down Clint's cheek. He followed the line round until he could trace Clint's lower lip the tip of his finger pressing down just enough to make Clint respond. Feeling Clint's tongue ghost against the tip of his finger Phil allowed himself a knowing smile.

"Phil, please," murmured Clint his voice catching in his throat as he stared up at other man, "Please do something. You're killing me here."

Barely suppressing a shiver at the sheer audible need in Clint's voice, Phil bent down and brushing a soft kiss against the side of Clint's mouth, he asked softly, "Do you think you've earned it?"

"I don't know," whimpered Clint, he swore under his breath, adding, "I don't know what you want. Please just touch me. Please I…"

"Shhh," soothed Phil, stroking Clint's cheek. He knew he was treading a fine line. He had kept Clint on the edge for the last hour, taking him to the brink of release before pulling back. Each climb up took more and more of a gentle toll on the other man and Phil knew he had to treat carefully. If he got this wrong he could hurt Clint more than before, he could push him over the edge and exasperate his condition. But if he got it right, if he timed it perfectly then the resulting wave of endorphins could boost Clint's recovery no end. It was the sort of careful balancing act that Phil relished.

X xx ooo xxx ooooo xxx ooo

Clint tightened his grip on the head board. He couldn't decide if Phil really was trying to punish him or not but right then he would do anything to actually find that teased at and hinted at release. He knew deep down what Phil was doing. He was using the softest of touches to draw the scene out, using it to build Clint's stamina up, using it to aid his recovery but on a baser leave he was convinced Phil was doing it to punish him for being careless with his health.

He whimpered loudly, not caring how pathetic he sounded, as Phil trailed a line of kisses around his neck, the kisses nipping slightly at his collar bone. He arched in response to a hard nip that crossed a sensitive scar on his shoulder, silently cursing Phil for knowing how much he loved it when that scar was kissed. A firm hand on his stomach forced him back down, the fingers undulating against his abs soothing and calming him down.

"Easy," soothed Phil, his voice as calm and collected as ever. But Clint could hear the emotions underlying Phil's calm words. He could hear the desire the need and that made him grin. It made him happy knowing that someone like Phil could still want him even after all these year after all his mistakes.

"Please," he breathed turning is head slightly to catch Phil's eyes, "Please do something."

Clint held Phil's gaze as the older man stared down at him. He put everything he was feeling, everything he knew he could never vocalise into the gaze hoping Phil could read him as easy as he normally could.

For a moment Phil held his gaze but then to his horror, Phil pulled away, putting space between them. Clint let out a started whimper and started to release his grip on the headboard. He was determined to reach out and grab Phil before he could leave but before his fingers even released the cool brass Phil was touching him again. He had simply been shifting position. He was no longer lying beside him, he was now kneeling between Clint's spread legs. Phil's knowledge hands rested on Clint's hips, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles on the sensitive skin where thigh met hips.

Clint gave a low guttural groan and hissed, "Fuck, Phil please, please, don't tease me please...I need…"

"It's ok," soothed Phil bending at the waist showing more flexibility than anticipated to press gentle kisses on each hip, "I told you I'm going to look after you

"Yeah right, this is taking care of me!" snapped Clint, although there was no real heat in his petulant sulk, "You just like tormenting me."

"Someone had to take care of you, darling. Now stop bucking your hips. I want you to lie still and just be a good boy." He paused then ghosting a breath over the length of Clint's straining erection he asked softly, "Can you do that? Can you be a good boy for me?"

"Yes!" gasped Clint fighting every instinct to buck his hips up off the bed, fighting hard not to grind his groin into Phil's touch, "God yes, I'll be good I promise. Please…"

Phil stared up at him, the knowing, steady gaze taking in every single detail of Clint's current condition. Clint stared back at him, his neck complaining at the difficult angle but he didn't care. He needed to see those soothing eyes, he needed the eye contact.

Phil nodded then, before Clint could draw in a breath, Phil's mouth closed around the leaking tip of his erection and Clint's mind exploded in delight.

Xx o xxxx ooo xxx oooo

It didn't take long for him to bring Clint to a grunting climax. As Phil slowly pulled back, wiping the residue off his lower lip, he grinned, loving the sight of Clint lying totally and utterly wrecked, spread out in front of him. Clint looked almost boneless with the way his legs had flopped open, his arms still stretched above his head were lying flat on the pillow and his head was tipped back his eyes screwed shut. He was breathing heavily and for a brief moment Phil was worried but then slowly Clint opened his eyes and started up at him.

Stretching up Phil brushed a kiss over Clint's lips and murmured, "Feel better?"

"God yes," replied Clint stealing a second kiss. He thumped his head against the pillow, trying to draw much needed air into his lungs before adding, "Where the fuck did you learn to do that with your tongue?"

"We all have our secrets," chuckled Phil shifting position so he could lie beside Clint, his hand resting on Clint's stomach.

Clint turned his head and looking up at Phil he smiled. It was a genuine smile not his normal sarcastic sassy smirk but a genuine heartfelt smile and it made Phil almost blush at being on the receiving end of it.

Running a hand over Clint's arm Phil stared down at him and after a few moments of comfortable silence he asked, "Do you need a break?"

"A break?" stammered Clint, "What do you…"

"You didn't think that was it, did you, darling?" chuckled Phil loving the look of realisation that slowly stole over Clint's face, "That was just a tension reliever."

Licking his lips Clint swore under his breath and closed his eyes. Phil watched him carefully, reading how Clint was feeling from his body language alone. He was still worried by the dark shadows under Clint's eyes but at least some colour had returned to Clint's face and his breathing wasn't as laboured as it had been before. He was still hesitant to go full force, still all too aware of how exhausted Clint had been earlier. Reaching over he grabbed the glass he had set on the bedside table and resting the straw against Clint's lips he ordered gently, "Drink."

Clint obeyed without argument, sucking on the straw while staring up at Phil – the meaning behind the look not lost on Phil. He shifted slightly his own body reacting to the blatant come on in Clint's eyes. Once he was satisfied Clint had drunk enough, he removed the straw taking care to wipe a residual drip off Clint's lips. As he took a gulp of water himself he glanced down and smiling warmly he asked, "What colour are you thinking of?"

Clint frowned at him tilting his head. The slowly, as he realised what he was being asked, he gave him a wide knowing smile and let out a little giggle. He shifted position on the bed his feet coming up to rest flat on the mattress, the new position showing off his body perfectly as he replied firmly, "Green. Without a doubt it's green."

"That's a nice colour," agreed Phil bending down to steal a kiss, "That's a very nice colour."

TBC


	11. The Scene part 4

Clint let out a contended sigh. It was often they got to do this, got to lie together and bask in the afterglow. Normally they were running from mission to mission, Phil snowed under with paperwork. But right then, right there, there was nothing but the two of them and Clint loved every single moment. Phil was lounging beside him, lying close enough that Clint could rest his head on the other man's thigh. He was certain if he was a cat he would be purring, very loudly, at the way Phil was absently stroking his hair as well. It was a strangely comforting gesture and he'd noticed Phil did more than normal whenever one of them managed to come back slightly more banged up than normal.

"You still with me, Barton?" chuckled Phil, pausing in his petting of Clint's hair to ruffle the short strands a moment.

"Still here, Boss," replied Clint sleepily. He stifled a yawn and blinking his eyes a few times he tilted his head back so he could look at Phil properly. He gave him a slight smirk asking, "Why d'ya ask?"

"You were practically purring," smiled Phil bending from the waist to brush a kiss over Clint's forehead.

"Was not," play pouted Clint, although the way he snuggled closer to Phil ruined the look.

"Hmmm," Phil drew back and narrowed his eyes a moment. Tilting his head to one side he regard Clint a moment then shifting position he gently laid Clint's head back onto the pillow and slipped off the bed, musing, "You still look a little peaky. I think we need to get you some more fluids."

"Awww no!" protests Clint, the pout far from playful this time, "Phil, no, please! Those rehydration drinks are rank and they taste like crap."

"I wasn't thinking rehydration," replied Phil firmly as he turned back towards the bed regarding Clint with a strange look, "I was think more about something to help get your energy levels up, you still look tired."

"Oh god nononono!" exclaimed Clint now sitting propped up on his elbows staring at Phil with something akin to rebellion in his eyes, "Not protein shakes those things are even…"

"Are you questioning me?" asked Phil gently, his voice disturbingly calm.

Clint bit his lower lip and blew out a hard breath through his nose. He knew they were in the middle of a scene, admittedly a gentle one, but still they were mid scene and he had just very blatantly argued against his dom. He dropped his eyes a moment then glancing up at Phil he shook his head and murmured, "No Sir."

"Hey," called Phil leaning over and sliding a finger under Clint's chin, forcing him to look up, "Relax, I'm not angry." He held Clint's glaze before pulling pack and letting Clint sink back down to the mattress.

"So, what did you have in mind?" asked Clint, his voice catching slightly in his throat as to his surprise Phil pulled his t-shirt off over his head. Subconsciously licking his lips Clint let his eyes roam over the rare treat of seeing Phil's bare torso.

"I was thinking of giving you a protein drink," explained Phil gently his thumbs catching in the waistband of his joggers.

Clint wrinkled his nose but stayed quiet for once. His silence and lack of reaction made Phil chuckle. He waited until Clint looked back up before winking at the now confused asset. Not breaking eye contact he started to ease the waistband of his jogger down only pausing when they were resting had way down his hips.

There was a very unmanly gurgle from the bed and then Clint yelped, "Oh god yes!"

Phil laughed out loud then ordered, "Hands back on the lower bar and no touching."

Clint mewed loudly but obeyed grasping the brass runner and settling into position as ordered. Phil nodded and leaning down he pressed a soft kiss against Clint's lips murmuring, "Good boy."

X oo xxxx ooooo xxxx oooo

Clint braced his feet flat on the mattress, flexing his back slightly as he waited for Phil to take position. For a few moments Phil simply gazed at him, the all-seeing eyes roaming over Clint's body like it was a lost treasure.

"Come on hurry it up. You're killing me here," murmured Clint with a salacious smirk, wriggling his body suggestively.

"For someone who can spend hours lying statue still in the middle of nowhere, you are surprisingly impatient," chided Phil with a fond chuckle as he stepped out of his joggers.

"Yeah well that's work, this," grinned Clint, "This is pleasure." He didn't even bother to hide the leer in his voice as he finally got to see Phil in all his glory for the first time since returning from the mission.

"Glad to hear that," replied Phil moving closer to the bed. He gripped the top rail and then very carefully swung his leg over so he could straddle Clint's chest. He paused asking seriously, "Are your shoulders ok to do this?"

"God yes," breathed Clint arching up, his tongue already wetting his lips in anticipation for the treasure that was about to his.

Phil hummed under his breath then slowly lowered himself down so he was resting on Clint's chest. Clint sighed happily and arching slightly he gazed up at Phil and smiled. Phil smiled back and caressing Clint's hair he slid a hand under Clint's head cradling it gently. Clint didn't resit he simply let Phil manoeuvre him into the perfect position. The normally far seeing eyes were now half hooded with pleasure as Phil rested the tip of his cock on Clint's lower lip.

"Ready?" asked Phil, his free hand stroking his own shaft rubbing it gently over Clint's mouth.

"Yes sir," breathed Clint obediently opening his mouth.

Phil let out a long low breath and he eased himself into the wet heat of Clint's mouth. Barely suppressing a groan he closed his eyes trying to bring himself back under control. He wanted this to last, he wanted for it to be as slow and leisurely as possible but it seemed Clint had other ideas. Hollowing his cheeks around Phil's length, he sucked and licked, putting every ounce of his attention into servicing Phil. His hands tightened around the lower run, his instinct screaming out for him to let go and grab hold of Phil's backside. For him to try and take over the rhythm but he knew he couldn't let go, so instead he gripped as hard das he could.

"Open your eyes," ordered Phil his voice surprisingly breathless.

Clint obeyed staring straight up at Phil as the older man bucked into his mouth. Locking their gaze Phil smiled and, arching his back, he pushed a little deeper allowing himself just full thrust touch. He felt Clint's throat constrict and the moment he sensed any discomfort he pulled back, ignoring the whine of disappointment.

"Easy," soothed Phil his fingers flexing against Clint's hair, "Don't want you to over exert yourself, you're still not one hund…"

"I'm fine!" hissed Clint pulling back just long enough to speak before diving straight back down Phil's length sucking even hard this time as if trying to distract Phil.

"Nice try," chuckled Phil easing back, leaving only the tip of his cock resting on Clint's lower lip, "We're doing this slowly Darling. No, no buts," he corrected as Clint started to grunt in disappointment. He stroked Clint's cheek before easing himself back in and slowly started to rock his hips back and forth, drawing out the most delicious sounds of delight from a now pliant and totally submissive Clint.

X xxx oooo xx ooxx xoxox

Arching as he came, Phil gave two stuttered grunts, then slumped forward, his forehead resting against his arm as he tried to regain his breath. Clint slowly relaxed his grip on the lower bar and finally reached out, his hands flaring over Phil's hips offering some much needed support to.

"I said no touching," panted Phil trying to sound more together than he really was.

"Tough, I don't fancy you landing on me when you collapse," chuckled Clint leaning up to brush a kiss over Phil's stomach as it hovered over his head.

"You never could follow orders all the way through," huffed Phil, although he did nothing to dislodge Clint's hands from his backside.

"Nope, bad me," grinned Clint. He was still licking his lips looking for all the world like the proverbial cat that got had literally just got the cream.

Phil gave a little chuckle then he swung his leg over and settled down beside Clint. Clint smiled up at him, the smile morphing into a grin when Phil leant down and brushed a kiss over his lips before kissing him properly.

"I liked that," murmured Clint as they broke for air.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," smiled Phil loving the relaxed contentment visible in Clint's face

"Yeah now see if medical prescribed that instead of those icky protein shakes I might not run away from them so often?"

"You want SHEILD medics to prescribe you blowjobs?" asked Phil pulling back slightly to regard the sleepy archer.

"No," grumbled Clint, "No, not just blowjob, blowjobs with you. Only you," he blinked then staring up at Phil he breathed, "Wouldn't want anyone else but you."

Phil swallowed stunned by the naked emotions visible in Clint's eyes. Biting his lower lip he hesitated before asking, "What colour are you thinking of?"

"Do you even need to ask?" drawled Clint, giving him the laziest sexiest smirk ever seen, "It's green. It's always green for you."

TBC


	12. The Scene part 5

Part 12

Clint sighed happily. He was feeling better than he had in days but despite that relaxation seeping through his system he was still far from 100% and he knew it. And what made matters worse he knew Phil knew as well. He glanced up at the other man and found those knowing eyes gazing down at him, thoughtful and appraising in equal measures.

"'m ok," he murmured snuggling closer.

Again they had simply been laying there, wrapped around each other, basking in the simple pleasure of being together.

"Of course you are," replied Phil brushing a hand over Clint's hair, "That's why you're still panting for breath twenty minutes after reaching release. That's why you keep shifting to ease the pressure on your shoulders, which are still aching, and that's why you barely have the energy to move. Lying never was your strong point, Clint." He corrected with a sad huff.

"Hey I can lie!" protected Clint although once he's said it he wasn't sure what he actually meant.

Phil simply looked at him, giving him agent look number 4. That was the one that always made Clint smirk when it was directed at other people but squirm like hell was it was directed him. He held Phil's eyes for a few second before snapping, "I mean it! I'm fine. I can take more, I promise. I'm not stupid, if it gets too much I'll use a traffic light. I pro…"

"That's enough," soothed Phil, bending down to brush a kiss again Clint's hair, "I'll decide how much you can take tonight but I'm glad you remember what the traffic lights are for," he paused then swinging his legs off the bed he ordered, "Sit up."

Clint obeyed, hissing as his body gave him a sudden reminder of how hard he had pushed himself during the last mission.

Phil didn't say anything as he waited for Clint to sit up, he simply watched visibly evaluating Clint's ability to carry on the scene. Slipping off the bed he stood there looking down at the younger man, his eyes roaming all over Clint's body taking in every single detail.

Clint gave a little audible gulp. It wasn't that he minded being looked at, hell he loved it when Phil looked at him with such intensity and possession, it was just that it still surprised him. It amazed him that a man like Phil would want anything to do with him, let alone want to and demand to take such good care of him.

The silence stretched out between them. It was intense but not uncomfortable. Clint gave a cocky little smirk flexing his shoulder just enough to make his muscles ripple, which in turned made Phil smirk in response and huff fondly, "Show off."

Clint grinned at him and cocking his head he replied, "You wouldn't have me any other way."

"Oh there are plenty of ways I'd have you," replied Phil dryly, "But right now I'd settle for you turning over and getting onto all four."

Clint frowned not quite sure where this was going but he obeyed, settling easily into the requested position. He arched then flexed his back enhancing the curve of his behind as he glanced over at Phil and asked, "Like this?"

Phil had an almost pained look on his face but he didn't say anything, he simply nodded, his eyes suddenly hooded and surprisingly dark. Clint couldn't help licking his lips at the sight of the normally in control, unflappable man looking so tempted. Unable to resist he wiggled his backside, practically wagging his tail. It drew out a soft chuckle and earned him a quick slap on the nearest cheek. He gasped at the impact then groaned loving the warmth that flared through his body murmuring, "Oh god yes please".

"Not tonight," breathed Phil leaning in to press a soft kiss to Clint's hip, his hand running over the curve of Clint's backside.

Clint couldn't help the whine of disappoint but the whine turned into a whimper as he realised what Phil was intending to do. He watched over his shoulder as his handler and lover climbed onto the mattress behind him kneeling between his spread legs. He bit his lower lip another need little whine escaping his lips as he felt knowledgeable hands flare over his backside gently easing his cheeks apart. He caught Phil's eyes and held the gaze murmuring, "Please…"

Phil smiled knowingly and pressing a kiss against the base of Clint's spine he murmured, "Hold still for me," then without warning he simply leant in and Clint couldn't hold back the yelp of pleasure as a warm tongue lapped against his entrance.

X o x xx ooo xx x xx xxooo

Watching Clint collapse onto his shoulders had been the first warning the Clint was nearing breaking point. The second warning was the noises the master marksman was making. The room was filled with little expletives and whimpers and mews that sounded like a symphony to Phil's ears. He could feel Clint coming apart under his hands, the tremors running through the compact form were getting stronger and combined with the fact Clint's arms had already given out, Phil knew Clint was close. He pulled back a moment, both to catch his own breath and also to admire the view. There was nothing he loved more than seeing such a strong man reduced to a whimper mess simply from the attention of his tongue.

He kissed each cheek before running a hand up Clint's spine and asking tellingly, "Talk to me, Barton."

Clint groaned – half a whimper, half needy moan - snapping, "Fuck don't say that now."

"Why not," chuckled Phil, taking a few teasing licks against Clint that had the other man kneeing with need.

"Because now when you say that during a mission I'm going to think of you rimming me and I am not going to be responsible for the resulting on-mission boner," huffed Clint burrowing his head into the pillow.

Phil gave a little chuckle and patting Clint's rump he replied, "I'm sure you'll survive."

"You're mean!" pouted Clint but that didn't stop him wagging his butt asking for more.

Phil narrowed his eyes noting the tremor running through Clint's body. Holding himself back a moment he asked seriously, "How are you hol…"

"I'm fine!" snapped Clint then giving a grunt of annoyance he added, "Please I'm too on edge. Either fuck me or finish me off but don't leave me hanging again. Please, I can't take that again tonight."

Phil didn't reply. He simply reached up and rubbed his thumb over Clint's entrance casing the young man to whine almost pathetically.

"Phil please!" mewed Clint not caring how pathetic he sounded at all

"Shhhh," soothed Phil, "I told you, darling, this isn't about sex, not tonight."

He ran his hand down Clint's thigh, then leaning in, he spooned against Clint's back. Pressing a kiss against the back of Clint's neck, he murmured, "I'm going to take care of you tonight. I'm going to make you feel so good that you're going to sleep for ages and then tomorrow, when you wake up, all rested and refreshed," he paused to nuzzle his face against the back of Clint's head, "I promise I will fuck you through this mattress and leave you a whimpering, boneless mess."

"Christ," breathed Clint twisting to face Phil as best he could in his current position, "Fuck yes…Phil please…I…" he strained his neck begging for a proper kiss needing the contact.

Phil pressed harder against him, rocking his hips slightly, teasing the younger man as he kissed him to a breathless needy mess. It was only as he pulled back that Phil saw how much his plan was working. For the first time since stepping off the plane Clint finally looked like he was beginning to relax.

TBC


	13. The Aftermath

"Fuck!"

Clint didn't care what he sounded like as he collapsed to the mattress, totally and utterly boneless. His body was wrung out, exhausted from the hours of intense, loving attention Phil had been lavishing on him. The last straw had been that bone melting rimming sessions, a session that had drained the last of his energy and left him floating on a cloud of pure pleasure. As the fog of release cleared he made a slightly pathetic icky noise and tried to wriggle his hips off the mattress.

Almost as soon as the noise escaped Clint's lips, Phil was at his side, one hand resting on the small of his back as he asked urgently, "Clint, what's' wrong"

"I'm lying on a wet patch," mewed Clint, his noise wrinkling in disgust but he didn't have the strength move.

"Is that all?" chuckled Phil, visibly relaxing as he realised there was nothing seriously wrong.

Carefully he shuffled Clint's resisting body out of the mess and into a slightly less crumpled section of the bed. Sliding off the bed, he headed towards the bathroom to grab a cloth to clean them both up. He grabbed a bottle of body lotion as well, something Clint denied even owning despite the fact Phil knew Clint had a very set grooming routine, and wandered back into the bed. He paused as he stared at the bed, watching one of the deadliest men he knew make little happy noises as he snuggled into a more comfortable position.

Working methodically he cleaned Clint up, taking time to linger over his thighs. He took even longer to clean his abs, going so far as to press soft loving kisses around Clint's navel, drawing yet more happy little noises out of the stated marksman.

"All done," he soothed throwing the cloth with unerring accuracy at the laundry basket.

"Thank you," murmured Clint turning over onto his stomach, wriggling his hips as little as he snuggled his face against the pillow.

"How are you feeling?" asked Phil, his hand lingering on Clint's shoulder, his fingers absently caressing the firm muscles.

"Good," murmured Clint, his eyes fluttering closed, a slight blush warming his cheeks as he basked in the afterglow of the orgasm Phil's tongue had pulled out of him, "Knackered, exhausted, but good. God I feel good"

"Glad to hear it," smiled Phil, his hand drifting down to rub soft soothing circles on Clint's back. He leant down and pressed a kiss to his shoulder and asked, "Think you'll be able to sleep now?"

"God yes," breathed Clint, snuggling closer to Phil, seeking the warmth from the other man's embrace. He paused then cracking one eye open he asked suspiciously, "You're staying right? You don't have to leave?"

"Not that I know of," replied Phil softly. He carded his hand through Clint's hair, "I told them not to disturb me unless the world was ending."

Clint hummed, then rolling onto his side, he yawned, "What day is it?"

"Saturday," replied Phil frowning slightly not following Clint's line of thought.

"Well in that case the world shouldn't end today," muttered Clint, nuzzling his face against Phil's hip, "Unwritten villains rule - no ending the world on a weekend."

"If you say so," chuckled Phil indulgently.

He fell silent and after a few moments Clint cracked his eye open and looking up at the older man he asked, "What?"

"Nothing," lied Phil, offering a placating smile as he gazed down at Clint.

Clint though saw through the comment. Cocking his head, he stared at Phil, the intense eyes boring a hole his heart.

"Just thinking how privileged I am," explained Phil giving a slightly embarrassed half smile.

Clint frowned but didn't press for more. Phil continued to cared his fingers through Clint's hair, then after a few silent, meditative moments he added hesitantly, "I know how hard it is for you to trust anyone. And I know for you to allow me to see you like this, totally defenceless, stripped to your core, I…" he bit the inside of his lip then taking breath he murmured honestly, "… I just want you to know it's an honour."

"Jeez Phil," breathed Clint in shock before rearing up to claim Phil's mouth in a desperate, hungry kiss, his hands gripping Phil's neck holding the surprised but responsive man in place as he continued to kiss the life out of him.

Breaking the kiss with a growl, Clint kept his hand around Phil's neck, holding the older man steady as he stared at him. His eyes roamed over Phil's face searching the knowing eyes before he murmured, "You're honoured? You have no idea what this means to me. What you mean to me, I…Phil I….fuck I'm no good with these sorts of words but just I…" He gave an angry little snarl then leant in again claiming Phil's mouth for another bone shattering kiss before hissing, "Thank you."

Phil swallowed hard and bring his hand up to caress Clint's one neck he smiled knowing and murmured, "You're welcome."

Clint gazed at him, a myriad of emotions running through his system but the predominant feeling was one of pure and utter contentment. Something he had never really felt before. With the slightly of smiles he bit his lower lip and murmured, "You have no idea what it's like, knowing you're watching over me like this."

Phil tilted his head slightly and letting his gaze flicker to the side a moment he replied softly, "Yes I do." Clint frowned and opened his mouth to reply but Phil got there first adding firmly," Because I know you have my back as well. You've no idea how much it means to me knowing that my hawk is watching over me even when I can't see you."

Clint gave a pained whimper and leaning in he stole another bone melting kiss from Phil, a kiss that said more than words ever could.

X oo xoxoxox xox xoox

Settling back into place as Phil climbed back into bed, Clint nuzzled his head against Phil's shoulder and, with the smirk audible in his voice, he asked, "By the way, did you mean what you said earlier?"

"What bit?" asked Phil, barely supressing his own yawn, the scene and subsequent confessions finally catching up with him as well.

"About what you're gonna do to me in the morning," chuckled Clint, his hand drawing teasing little patterns on Phil's stomach.

"Oh you mean about fucking you through the mattress until you can't move?" asked Phil in the same slightly amused slightly resigned tone he normally reserved for Stark.

"Yup, that," grinned Clint glancing up, "did you mean it?"

Phil quirked an eyebrow and with a straight face, he asked, "Have you ever known me to go back on my word, agent?"

"No sir," grinned Clint.

"Exactly," replied Phil snuggling down into the mattress, "now shut up and go to sleep."

"Sir, yes Sir," replied Clint cheekily, pressing a barely there kiss against Phil's shoulder before letting his eyes close and allowing himself to fall into the best sleep he had experienced for years. Safe in the knowledge that he had someone watching over him, someone he trusted with every single fibre of his body, someone he knew would never let him down no matter what the universe threw at them. And he knew too he would do everything in his power to make sure he repaid Phil's trust and kindness in every single way possible. No matter what the cost might be to him – he would never willingly let Phil down. Never.

FIN x


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